


By the edge we sit and watch the world pass by

by PhantomWriter



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Fate & Destiny, Gen, Post Episode: 15e11 The Gamblers, Witch Sam Winchester, Witchcraft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:42:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 27,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22907971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhantomWriter/pseuds/PhantomWriter
Summary: After the encounter with Lady Luck, Sam gets visited by the Queen of Hell.
Relationships: Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Eileen Leahy & Sam Winchester, Jack Kline & Jesse Turner, Jack Kline & Sam Winchester, Rowena MacLeod & Adam Milligan, Rowena MacLeod/Sam Winchester
Comments: 12
Kudos: 48
Collections: SPN favorites





	1. The Visit

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a single chapter. Have to cut into two.

The first time Rowena visited, she was lounged over that particularly hard wooden chair in the war room with a scotch at hand and looked like she owned the place. 

It wasn’t her sudden, unannounced presence that surprised the two of them—Dean thought it was part of the ‘bad luck’ going on that he would get visitors who would only bring him bad news (and would raid his stash from now on), while Sam was taken off-guard by a completely different reason. 

“Well, seems like our luck hasn’t run out yet if we’re getting a personal visit from the Queen of England,” Dean remarked dryly; the first person to speak in the room.

“Hello to you too, Dean,” she greeted with a faint roll of her eyes. “Samuel,” she added with a smirk that was gone as soon as it appeared.

Sam pretended he didn’t catch that. 

“So to what do we owe the visit?” Dean asked, direct to the point like he has no time for surprise appearances. 

Sam knew Dean didn’t mean to sound brisk, but given how it has been in the last forty-eight hours, not to mention Baby breaking down at least seven times per hour during the entire return trip, Sam was aware that Dean was on the very last vestige of his patience. 

Rowena was unaware of this, of course, so she kept making it a little difficult for him because that was how she always was. “Oh? Is that how it is now after my promotion, Dean?” She took her time deliberately to place her glass down. “Am I no longer allowed to drop by for a social visit?”

“Doesn’t Hell have cell service?”

“The tower was one of the things destroyed down there by divine wrath,” she replied with a shrug. “And I don’t think you’ll approve of the alternative.”

Sam remembered human blood and a chalice—which weren’t the point here, and sensing Dean’s mounting annoyance, Sam was quick to interrupt. “Look, Rowena, it’s not that we don’t like you here. I mean, I’m glad to see you… again… outside of Hell…” Sam fumbled, though he recovered swiftly. Again, not the point. “Um, given our luck in the past few days, we have reasons to believe that you’re here to bring us bad news.”

Rowena snorted, and Sam winced at his lack of tact. He didn’t mean to make it sound that way. She was over it in a second, and Sam convinced himself that he wasn’t affected by the way she merely disregarded his words. 

“Your brother is back down there, just letting you boys know.”

Sam and Dean shared a look before it clicked. 

“Why? How?” Dean asked incredulously. “I thought Adam will—”

“Just continue with his life here topside?” Rowena continued. She sighed, exasperated. “Now I see why the lad never considers himself part of the family no matter how he’s as much of a knucklehead as you two. But he’s your blood, nonetheless, and it’s not that he gave an explicit instruction of not mentioning it.” 

She leaned back on her seat slightly. “He goes out during the day and comes back during the evenings. I’m not a fan of him turning Hell like some cheap motel, but his presence alone makes others think that I have the archangel Michael on my speed dial. He doesn’t bother me while I treat him as a guest and not a caged animal. I’d say the setup is beneficial both ways.”

Sam noticed the way Dean’s jaw tightened like he wanted to be mad and say something hurtful to Rowena or to Adam… to himself. Dean settled for resignation, and he accepted the news as if it was to be expected even knowing too well he could have done better. 

“Okay,” Dean finally said with a solemn nod. “Thank you for telling us. Now we know one place we can always find the guy.”

He was out of the room without looking back, and Sam let him be. Later, he promised himself, he would ask Dean later about what happened between him and Adam. 

“I’m sorry about Dean. It’s not a good few days for us. I know that’s not an excuse, but…” Sam trailed off. “I know he’s glad to see you too.” 

Dean might not show it, but he has warmed to her bit by bit since the Apocalypse World despite the prior years of bad blood. It was apparent when he grieved her death as well.

Rowena merely looked amused at the statement. “I’m a big girl, Samuel. I can most certainly handle your brother’s grumpy attitude.” Her eyes swept the room, seemingly looking anywhere but Sam. “Where’s your angel?”

“Heaven. Cas’s checking out whether the angels can help with Chuck,” Sam said, sitting down opposite her. 

“Yes, because they will be willing to cooperate in bringing down their absentee father. Still, no harm in trying.” She took another sip from her glass. “But tell me, did your brother and his angel finally kiss and make up?”

“I’m not sure about the kissing part,” Sam smiled, “But they definitely made up.” 

Rowena hummed in satisfaction at the answer, and Sam was touched that she still found the time to care about them. 

“How about you?” Sam asked. “You doing okay in Hell so far?”

“As well as I can be,” Rowena replied and made the mistake of holding Sam’s gaze for a second too long, enough for Sam to notice something dimming in her eyes. “No one said that being queen will be easy. Queen of the Damned, no less.” She stood with a flourish, avoiding Sam. “I better get back.”

“Uh, yeah, right. Right.” Sam was on his feet immediately, hovering with uncertainty. He wasn’t even sure what to do with his hands. “Thanks, I guess, for keeping us updated with Adam. Appreciate you looking out for him. Not in a babysitter kind of way but, you know.”

“If I managed to stick around with two Winchesters before, what’s another one with an archangel?” 

She walked past him to a bowl that he missed earlier. It produced a thin trail of smoke that smelled faintly of sulfur until Rowena threw in something and the scent of incense pervaded instead. She raised her palm over the container and began to chant. 

“Hey,” Sam interrupted. She looked mildly put off for the intervention but allowed Sam to continue, nonetheless. “You know that you can visit, right? Anytime, whenever it suits you.”

Because nothing should have changed, Sam wanted to add, she was still their friend and ally Rowena, Queen of Hell or otherwise. 

Except something did change, and it was mainly between Sam and her. Not that Sam expected anything less—with their last moments and all—but the last time he saw Rowena he was assured by her that there was nothing for him to apologize for, that she was grateful that he killed her, as morbidly as that sounded. 

It was fine, she said, even when it clearly wasn’t. 

“I know.” She regarded him for a moment and said, “It's good to see you too, Samuel.”

This time she didn’t look away when she mustered a small sympathetic smile. Sam supposed that it was the best that he would get, smiling in return.

Sam watched as the cloud of purple smoke vanished with her, and he wondered when he would see her again. 

✺✺✺

Dean glanced at the passenger seat and raised an eyebrow when he caught Sam staring into space for the third time. 

“Hey,” he called Sam’s attention. “What’s going on with you?”

Sam blinked. “Just thinking, sorry.”

“Alright, I know this Alaska thing sounds a lot of bull, but we’ve made a long ass trip before for far less," Dean reasoned. “If it turns out to be nothing, then fine, it’s nothing. It’s not like Cas ain’t doing the same with Heaven and the angels up there.”

And Sam felt the same way. They wouldn’t just sit around and twiddle their thumbs, restless and afraid to make any move or plan against Chuck at the risk of having God himself jinxing it. Letting Chuck get into their heads meant letting him take their agencies away from them. Not a chance. 

“I know, Dean,” Sam agreed. “I know, but it’s not what I’m really thinking.”

A look of understanding flashed across Dean’s face. “Heard from Eileen recently?”

“Ah, no. Not a text since she left,” Sam said, looking ahead. “But I’m not worried about her. She can handle herself, and she’ll communicate once she’s ready.” He tried not to sound like he was only convincing himself. “It’s Rowena,” he admitted. 

It wasn’t quite obvious, but Dean did appear momentarily sheepish when he remembered her visit the previous evening. “Rowena, right. She said anything to you?”

“Nothing aside about Adam.”

Dean nodded, falling silent at the mention of their half-brother. 

“I know we didn’t get to be good older brothers to him,” Sam began when it was apparent that Dean was about to wallow in the silence. “But I’m glad it’s somebody we trust that gets to look out for him. Space, that’s the best we can give Adam for now.”

Dean continued to drive at the same speed, and judging how heavy he was thinking at the moment, Sam was sure he managed to get his point across. 

Sam couldn’t help but think that it applied not only to Adam but also to Eileen. To Rowena. 

The ironic thing was that it was him that they both needed space from. 

✺✺✺

Lady Luck. 

Of all the deities they would encounter, they had the luck—no pun intended—to chance upon her. She called them heroes, though frankly, Sam believed the main reason she sided with them was because of her own grudge with Chuck. 

In the end, she gave them back something they never thought they had. 

When Sam dwelled on it, however, was it really that bad? Sure, there were inconveniences here and there, but they were minor ones so far, nothing that screamed fucked over by God himself. And thinking about it, wasn’t it better that they weren’t protected by whatever Chuck placed on them that had them living their day-to-day lives like some kind of cutout heroes of an action movie? 

During the course of a few days in Alaska, Sam was able to reflect on their situation from a different perspective. They were still Sam and Dean Winchester; they were still hunters; they were still brothers. Nothing could change those things that mattered the most. Not even Chuck. 

What was interesting was that when Sam began warming to the idea that they were their own person despite Chuck’s petty interference, Sam started to feel freer, like he was more… normal; with a pretty messed up life, sure, but normal just like any other person out there.

He and Dean were simply two brothers trying to survive and make a living out of whatever thrown their way. 

Don’t play his game. Make him play yours. 

While Sam took the advice close to heart, he couldn’t be sure what she meant exactly. Hard to make God himself play their game, certainly not without a plan, not when the person who could have a chance was already—

And Sam stood there as Jack revealed himself awkwardly, unsurely, like he was still feeling guilty over something that was never his fault. 

Sam hugged him so tight because his—their kid was back.

Jack told them how Billie kept him in the Empty and about her plan that with the help of careful execution by Jack should be able to kill Chuck. He was pretty vague on the details aside from the need to consume angel hearts, which, in any other situation, would earn advice from Sam, Dean, and Cas, but…

It wasn’t much, but it was a plan. It wasn’t theirs, but this one… this one might stand a chance. 

For once since their last encounter with Chuck and the likely future he showed Sam, he saw a faint glimmer of hope. 

“So Jack’s alive.”

Sam jolted at the sudden presence in the kitchen when he was the only one left. 

“It’s just me, Samuel,” said Rowena as if she appeared out of thin air, looking amused at his reaction. She sat where Dean previously was. “That wee boy’s alive.”

“Yeah,” Sam said when he finally recovered, relaxing. “Yeah. We got him back.” A genuine smile made its way to his face. “I… Did you know that we challenged Lady Luck in her own joint? We lost the game but we won her favor, and yet I was expecting that it wouldn’t be much. I mean no offense to her, but luck can only bring us as far as it can, you know? Especially for people like me and Dean. Then we return here, thinking we’ll be back to square one with Chuck still one step ahead.” 

“And you got Jack instead waiting for you lot,” Rowena finished for him. “Well, seems to me you unknowingly got yourself a big win.”

“We did,” he agreed, pensive. “I know it’s too early to celebrate with Chuck on the loose but I’m beginning to be hopeful. Something I didn’t know I’ll feel again after he—and I—thought he crushed it.” 

And the words came spilling out of his mouth, retelling the past few days’ events to Rowena, the possible future of the world being overrun by monsters if they would lock Chuck away and have Cas take the mark. He told her of the gunshot wound connected to Chuck, of the alternate worlds he saw that Chuck considered rejects. He told her of Lilith, even, and Chuck’s sole task to her of melting the Equalizer Gun. 

He told her of Eileen and the way Chuck manipulated them to think that it was Rowena’s own spell that Sam used to bring her back. 

“Och. I should be mad,” she huffed. “But after finding out what an utter dobber he is, I’m no longer surprised.” Rowena peered at Sam. “However, credit where credit is due. Half of that spell is all you.” She smirked. “I’m right; you do have the making of a great witch.”

Sam was unprepared for the praise, even if it might be her way to change the subject to a lighter one. “I had a good teacher,” he said humbly. 

“Hardly taught you anything, Samuel,” she pointed out. “But this is as good as any to start with the lesson.” There was a small pendant on her palm when she opened it to Sam. “A charm. With the very few resources I can easily get down there, I only made one, but you can create three more on your own. You have my journals, aye? Locate the one for good luck charm.”

“Good luck charm?”

“Well, I’m going to need a fancier term but the name explains its purpose.” She let the chain fall limply between her fingers. “It’s an amulet for good fortune. I made one when I heard that you were having unfavorable encounters.” She tilted her head. “Not tested against a greater divine interference, you understand, and with Lady Luck’s favor already on your side, I won’t guarantee that this will even be useful anymore.”

“I—Thank you, Rowena.” Sam took it from her, and he thought their hands briefly touched. “To be honest, I’m just surprised you think I can make another of this.”

“Oh, hush. If you can turn a spirit into a solid form, I doubt you’ll fail a necklace.”

Sam snorted. “I mean, if you put it that way…” He fiddled with the cerulean amulet. “Thanks. Can’t hurt to have too much luck. Who knows, maybe Dean will finally get lucky with those scratch cards.”

“And you’ll probably get lucky with your girlfriends as well,” she added knowingly, much to Sam’s utter surprise.

Sam blinked, looking somewhat indignant. “I don’t—I mean, I don’t think—”

Rowena appeared triumphant like she made her point. “Of course you don’t,” she muttered patronizingly. 

“Okay.” Sam raised his hand in surrender, leaning slightly forward bemusedly. “How is it suddenly about me?”

“Who else am I supposed to poke fun at?” she shot back, absently imitating Sam’s gesture. She pursed her lips. “I lectured your brother and the angel last time a thing about regrets. You weren’t there to hear it so I say it now: you can’t make it right but you can avoid it. If it needs fixing now, then fix it.”

“I am fixing it,” Sam replied. He didn’t even know if there was a need to in the first place because how was he to fix a rigged game? “Or trying to.”

Her mouth twitched into a small smile. “That’s just as good, lad, more so to someone who still has all the time in their hands.”

“Don’t you?” he asked, eyes watching as Rowena’s hand hesitantly moved to touch Sam’s. 

“Technically, I’m dead, aren’t I?” 

“Because I killed you.”

“Because I asked you to.” She decided to forgo the gesture of touching. “I told you, didn’t I? I should have died long ago. You killing me was one of the best things that ever happened to me.”

Why don’t I believe you? Sam wanted to say but held himself with a swallow, looking away. “So you said.”

“And I’ll keep saying it until I convince you, giant.”

Sam attempted a smile. The lightness of her tone and their proximity were improvements at least from her previous visit, he thought, though there remained a heavy air between them, an awkwardness that Sam never attributed before with his interaction with her. 

“You know it’s okay, right?” he said. “If you’re mad and you don’t want to forgive me. If you bear a grudge or—” 

“Och, you. The big brooding man charm can only work for a while, Samuel,” she sniped. “Don’t make me repeat myself, Sam,” she said, almost imploring. 

“Can you promise me something though?”

“If it’s within my capability.”

“If you need anything, anything at all... tell me. Even if it’s just to lend you an ear,” he said. “I am still your friend, Rowena. That’s something I don’t want to change.” 

Her green eyes flickered over his face as if searching for something, a lie or a trace of doubt, probably. when she found none of those, she finally said, “That’s something I can promise.”

Sam’s hand crept to move to cover her smaller one. It was inexplicable, the urge to hold her hand. He wanted to give comfort, maybe, as a friend to Rowena and not the Queen of Hell.

Except Sam’s hand went through as if he was touching an illusion, as if he was touching a ghost. 

Oh.

Rowena’s form gave a mild ripple at the contact. “I’m not really here, Samuel,” she told him, a tad wanly, a little regretfully.

“Like astral projection?”

“An improved astral projection,” she corrected. “I can make contact with small inanimate objects but otherwise I can only be seen. The spell largely requires the glow of the full moon; hence, I can only perform the spell on such evenings. That’s why as much as I’d like to exchange the latest gossip with you lads whenever I want, it won’t always be amenable to me.” 

“I didn’t know.” Sam frowned. “I honestly thought it was the same with demons.”

“I could possess an unknowing living human, sure, but then again after living for centuries in my own skin, I’ll never get used to the feeling of being in another person.” She shrugged. “Not really worth all the trouble.”

Sam could practically hear what was left unsaid there: she didn’t want to possess a poor living person whose control she would rob. She knew how possession felt, and Rowena didn’t want to inflict the same experience on another. 

“Does it work the other way around?” he asked. “Say, for someone who wants to project themselves in Hell while being here topside, is it possible?”

She raised an eyebrow at the inquiry. “While I don’t know why someone would want to walk around in Hell, I can’t say for sure. Hell itself is wrapped around in its own protective layer of magic. It’s easy to go in and out as a native, more so as its ruler, but I can’t guarantee otherwise. Where is this coming from?”

“Nothing. Just curious.”

“And curiosity kills the cat.” Rowena squinted her eyes at him. “Samuel, if you’re thinking what I’m thinking, I’m going to stop you now.”

“I’m thinking an assignment for later. Along with the good luck charm.”

“That is a simple charm while the projection is quite another. Make no mistake, this is not a diss on your ability. You have the right aptitude for it, but this spell is of an advanced level. It took me a decade to master it and an unbinding to hold up a decent projection.” 

“Is that a challenge?” Sam asked impishly. 

Rowena huffed and rolled her eyes. “I don’t know if I should be mad at ye for not listening to my advice or be mad that I never had this earnest of a student before.” 

“Have to learn more. We can’t always rely on someone else, and gone are the days that we used to think that the hunter’s way is the only option that we have.” Sam tilted his head slightly, wistful. “When you said before that magic was also fighting, you were right, and I thought about it a lot when you told me that I have the making of a witch. It feels as if I can do something more, you know? More than just the salt and burn.” 

“But you do know that already, that you’re capable of something else that your brother doesn't.”

Sam shook his head. “They called me one of Azazel’s special children, but I never considered myself as one. Special, I mean,” he recalled ruefully. “I was a freak with mind powers, an abomination that Dean couldn’t even look at when he learned that I drank demon blood to strengthen that ability.” 

“Chuck certainly skimmed on the details in the book,” she murmured, glancing away. 

“You read those?”

“‘Learn thy enemy’, they say. Just my luck that someone decided to write volumes upon volumes about the Winchester Brothers. Not the most epic piece of literature out there but it was a vast source of information.” She smirked, eyes seemed to be alight with mischief. “And my, quite a nice collection of pretty brunettes.”

“Great. You knew about that too.”

“Purely from observation but you do have a type.”

“I’ve been with blondes as well, just saying,” Sam said, a bit affronted. It was bemusing how easy it was to let the words tumble out like he was simply talking to Dean. “Ugh. I shouldn’t be defending myself.”

“Well, you do have a thing for strong women,” she pointed out. She eyed Sam critically when he didn’t disagree. “Huh. No wonder you’re head over heels with your new gal. A dark-haired huntress.” She suddenly made a face. “Eugh. It seems like a bad line Chuck uses to describe your new girlfriend.”

The grin that bloomed on Sam’s face was immediately gone when he turned somber. “She’s not… Eileen isn’t a ‘girlfriend’. Chuck said he wanted her to be that girl the ‘main character’ would end up with.” He scoffed. “As if that’s her only purpose in her life. She’s more than that. Eileen is greater than that.”

“No doubt,” she commented idly, observing his expression of pure admiration.  
  
  


“Yeah, but, I don’t know, Rowena. Chuck or no Chuck, she’s exactly the girl. She knows the life; Dean approves of her; she’s pretty; she’s understanding and kind even after Hell, after everything.” He fiddled with his fingers, deep in thought. “What I told her after Chuck revealed that he was manipulating me and her since her return, that was true. I’m attracted to her. I care for her. I want to protect her. Those feelings… Those are real. I know in myself that Chuck couldn’t have fabricated those things.”

A heavy atmosphere hung over them like an oppressive cloud when Sam promptly fell silent, conflicted. Rowena seemed to have understood the abrupt pause, letting the silence blanket them for a few moments. 

“But?” she prodded gently. 

“I kissed her, Rowena,” Sam shared. “I kissed her, and when I let her go after, it was as if it was the right thing to do.” He smiled ruefully. “I was so confused because I knew that she would have stayed if I asked her to, but I did not. And now… now I’m just glad that we stay as friends instead despite that.”

He was unable to turn her way because he didn’t mean to admit it aloud. He should be telling this to Dean, but his brother wouldn’t understand, not when he was encouraging Sam to build that life they once sought to have. Dean didn’t know that Sam no longer saw himself in that scenario. 

Not when he could no longer see himself fitting those broken, jagged parts of him with another person with equally uneven edges. 

Not since…

“I cannot presume to know why you have that conflict with yourself,” he heard her say. “But if there’s one thing I know, you and your brother are too much of bloody heroes that you place yourselves last of your priorities, which is why you can’t seem to get it in your thick heads that someone might care for you the same way.”

Sam couldn’t help but chuckle at her grumbling tone. Expect her to poke fun while making her point. 

“Thank you,” Sam simply replied. “For listening.” 

“It’s what I do, Samuel,” she said with a flick of her hair, coupled with a knowing smirk and seemingly sparkling eyes. 

Sam supposed she was even more entitled now to the haughty attitude, not that he could begrudge her that. Rowena became endearing to Sam in her own way. 

She claimed that she was a projection while the real Rowena was somewhere down below, likely in her throne, and yet she looked so real now with Sam as if the evening seemed to have lit something in her as well compared to her hasty previous visit.

When she left and Sam was able to lie down his head, he let the weariness from the past few days wash over him, sleeping with elation at Jack’s return from the dead, the promise of a next visit from a friend, and the image of glittering emerald eyes.

✺✺✺

“This is for me?” 

“Uh, yeah. It’s not much, but I followed Rowena’s journals and hoped I could make something on par with what she gave me.” He observed Jack’s reaction consciously. “What do you think?”

Jack studied the amber pendant curiously. “I can sense a pulse of magic. You made it?”

Sam fought back the surge of pride that he was able to create something with his own hands. “Yeah. I know it probably won’t do much, but it’s a charm for good luck. We all need it, no matter how big or small.”

Rowena kept her journals organized which made things easier for Sam. They were practically well-done manuals for potion-making and spell-crafting that all he had to do was follow step by step. 

Jack wore the necklace and liked how it sat around his neck. “Thank you, Sam. I’ll treasure it.”

“I know you will,” Sam replied softly. “Rowena said I can recreate what she gave me, and I made three so far—one for you, Cas, and Dean.” He pulled his own, showing it to Jack. “She started the necklace trend and I figured I’ll do the same. Less risk of losing it.”

Utter interest and surprise bloomed on Jack’s face when he saw Sam’s amulet. “Amazing,” he whispered. 

Sam’s mouth twitched. He remembered Jack’s fascination with Rowena’s witchcraft in general. “You know Rowena. She never does things by halves,” he said fondly. “She’s glad you’re back.”

Guilt crossed Jack’s features. “The last time I talked to her, I was desperate to find a way to bring Mary back. Rowena was my last resort, and when she couldn’t help me, I—I hurt her, not only physically,” Jack recalled regretfully. “I hope she forgave me for that.”

“She does,” Sam assured him. “I know her—at least, I know what she is now. She didn’t hold that against you. She likes you, you know, even if she doesn’t say it.”

“I like her too, Sam,” Jack said sincerely. “Rowena gave me a chance despite knowing who my father was, and she was always there to help.” He frowned. “I never ask, but how is she by the way?”

“Right, you don’t—” Sam sat down, prompting Jack to do the same across him. He guessed Dean and Cas haven’t given Jack yet a recap of what happened after his death, and with the both of them presently over at Tulsa for a possible vampire case, it was up to Sam to keep Jack up to date. “You mentioned you’ve been with Billie for a while. She might or might not have mentioned to you the prophecy about me and Rowena.”

Jack attentively listened to Sam’s recounting of the events. He even started on the day he learned the prophecy and how Rowena attempted to get Billie to resurrect Crowley: incidents that happened while Jack had been in the Apocalypse World with Mary. Sam pretty much outlined how Rowena grew into a reliable and capable ally they could depend on most of the time. 

Somberly, Sam told Jack about the day he killed Rowena in the crypt per her insistence. She saved the world that day, Sam said, and the person who used to only look after herself learned to care enough for others that she sacrificed her own life without hesitation. Rowena threw herself down the rift, the scene forever etched at Sam’s mind despite her return. 

“Now she’s the Queen of Hell,” he concluded. “Because if someone like Rowena will go down that way, expect them to still emerge on top of the chain.” 

“I’m not surprised that she earned the position,” Jack said. He paused, seemingly remembering a thought. “When Billie kept me in the Empty, she told me a few secrets about Heaven and Hell. She said that Heaven was originally close to earth that it could almost be touched at an arm’s reach.”

Sam blinked. “Really?” he asked incredulously.

“Death doesn’t have a reason to lie.” Jack shrugged. “And Hell… well, she said it’s a prison, a prison for all the wrongdoers, and it’s not the Cage that is the jail for Lucifer. She said it was the throne itself should Lucifer escape the Cage. Lucifer would have ruled, but it was still the damned that he would stand on top of, and there he would find no gratification, no pleasure, and no meaning. He would only waste there without purpose and clarity—God’s own cruel punishment for his most ingenious son with a bright mind.”

Sam took his time to digest that. It should be at least a bit disconcerting, Sam thought, that Jack spoke of God and Lucifer like they were not technically his grandfather and the archangel who sired him. Except it wasn’t, not to Sam, certainly not when his mind was occupied with a sudden realization. 

“Rowena,” Jack spoke again. “Is she happy?”

_Yes_ , Sam was ready to say. She did say so the moment they discovered she was the one currently sitting on Hell’s throne. 

Though Sam couldn’t keep from his mind too how her eyes dimmed when he asked her directly and she replied that she was alright.

He didn’t know how and what to answer. He could find out, though what was the guarantee that he would even get the truth? 

_If_ he did get an honest answer, Sam knew he wouldn’t like it either.

✺✺✺

Sam waited for the next full moon, half-expecting Rowena to show up. 

She did not, and he tried not to be dismayed. 

She was running the entirety of Hell, for goodness sake. Sam should be grateful that she even bothered with them in the first place after her self-proclaimed promotion. 

Sam felt bad that Jack partly blamed himself for causing Sam’s gloom in the last couple of days. Jack came to apologize to him and said that he didn’t mean to ask a loaded question and have Sam overthink it. It was enough to pull Sam from his, _er_ , moping.

He learned to shake his low spirit with a shrug and moved on when Sam became aware that he was being a petulant child who needed attention. Besides, there was also a witch case that needed their immediate notice.

While a case that involved witches before was usually related to Rowena one way or another, Sam was frankly surprised to see her show up in the middle of the night after a bust that did not pan out with any lead aside from another dead witch. 

“Oh, good, you’re already on the right track. This will save me the time to explain,” was all they got once she stormed into the motel Sam and Dean were staying in. 

It was a demon, Rowena dropped on them like a bomb. She explained that she knew there were a number of demons who didn’t like it when she took over Hell. A handful of Crossroads Demons and the regular ones defected at the beginning of their reign, and Rowena made the decision not to hunt them down as long as they were not making trouble topside or within Hell.

“Now they do and here I am,” she finished, crossing her arms. It was clear that she wasn’t pleased with the turn of events. “I should have eliminated them when I had the chance.”

“The witches, are they making deals with the demon then?” Dean asked. 

“I can’t think of any other reason. An upstart witch makes a poor deal with a demon—witchcraft in exchange for the soul after ten years.” Rowena scrunched her nose in disgust. “As if a witch needs to borrow an infernal influence when magic exists outside of that and the celestial tap.”

“But ten years. We encountered three witches before who made the same deal but the demon truly bound them to the ten-year-contract,” Sam reasoned with a deep frown, recalling Astaroth and the suburban 'book club'. 

“A demon can go back to the agreement and tear the contract on their own,” she told them grimly. “Do you honestly think they have a modicum of integrity? They’re _demons_. They have a semblance of loyalty to the authority only because they fear the regimen. But if the ruler is lax, they’re free to do what they want. They love the rack and the pit so much because those are where they could unleash their cruelty and savagery that need to be slaked from time to time since they turned demons.”

“Yeah, but Crowley wasn’t like that,” Dean defended. 

“My son was a unique case, you know that,” she said with a sigh. “But you have to admit that while he did possess integrity, he had no qualms killing innocents before you gave him human blood. If I met him that early, he wouldn’t have any hesitation to kill me on the spot either. I loved Fergus, but he was hardly my son in the first few years you knew him as Crowley.”

Sam acknowledged that it took an effort on Rowena's part to say that. “You mean to say that the sole reason demons honor deals is because they’re bound to Hell as well and breaking their word means they’ll be punished?”

“Obliterated by Hell itself, giant, no questions asked,” she confirmed. “Demons look out for their own skin, nothing else. Everybody in there has their own agenda.”

“And these demons we’re hunting down are no longer in league with Hell that’s why they can just kill their victims immediately once the deals are sealed and collect the souls.” Dean slammed his fist on the table. “Son of a bitch.”

“My gravest mistake is that I let them go without a hitch. This is all on me, boys, so while I appreciate the help, I’d rather you let me deal with them when you catch them.”

The brothers shared a look. “We can do that,” Dean replied after he got a nod from Sam. “No assurance we’ll hand them to you unharmed.”

Rowena raised an eyebrow approvingly. “I won’t expect anything less.”

✺✺✺

Five black-eyed demons and five Crossroads. Sam and Dean had worked against greater odds against them. 

Although, the challenge was catching them alive. 

In the end, the five Crossroads Demons were killed—three when they were used as covers due to their low chances in close-quarter combat, and two were killed by Sam and Dean themselves out of self-defense.

They did tell Rowena beforehand that they couldn’t guarantee they would be in one piece. 

The other regular demons were proven to be tough, either with their sensible tight-knit formation of five-against-two or Chuck's removal of their 'plot armors'. 

Their experience bred from years of hunting wasn’t owed to Chuck, however, and so was the shock factor they apparently have when a demon managed to corner Sam and was about to go straight for the kill but found itself repelled and disintegrated by a sudden force that came out of nowhere. 

A warm and pulsing sensation was on Sam’s chest, and in the moment of confusion, his hand closed around the cerulean pendant. 

“You?” a demon spat. “You’re the one who holds her favor? A filthy human hunter!”

“What?”

Dean’s angel blade was in the same demon’s mouth. The demon fell limp by Sam’s feet while another was creeping behind him while he was down on his knee. Sam was quick to draw his gun and shot the demon behind him square on its forehead. He tossed the gun to Dean who did the same to the other two demons. 

By the next half of the hour, the three were secured with ropes and chains on top of a huge demon traps as well. For precaution, the chairs and the chains they bound them to were etched with the same sigils. 

It was like in their early years, the good old-fashioned hunting. There were a few scrapes and bruises, but the soreness was a welcomed reminder in their bones that it has been quite a while now and Sam and Dean weren’t getting any younger.

Dean nudged Sam. “You can call her now,” he said once they were done catching their breath. 

Sam moved over to the bowl and sliced his palm while muttering the incantation Rowena provided them. There were only three lines and not much fanfare that Sam thought for a moment that it didn’t work. 

Until there was a low-pitched hum that followed when the smoke dissipated and there Rowena stood, her hair down and not an ounce of makeup on her face aside from the lines around her eyes. 

Her face looked sharper, cutting, even. There was a promised ruthlessness in her stance and hard expression that her black dress torn at the edges pronounced further. 

Sam and Dean couldn’t help but stand straighter in her presence. The three demons admirably did not cower under her critical gaze. 

What they could all agree on was that Rowena appeared today as an executioner and not the Queen of Hell. 

“I should have known it’s you lot,” she spoke in an even voice. “Not the brightest bulb of the bunch but clever enough to escape my reign. Bravo.” 

The overwhelming silence was enough to break the demon in the middle, making it let out a bark of a harsh, unnerving laugh.

“Why should we bow down to you?” the demon said. “You’re no better than the soul we torture in the racks for fun. You’re not even like us.”

“I assure you that my early life corrupted my soul enough,” Rowena countered. “And, no, I am certainly not like you. You demons are weak—the leftovers, at least. Why do you think it was easy for me to subjugate the bunch of you?”

“You’re powerful for a damned soul, we can’t deny that,” the demon on the right said patronizingly. “You killed a hundred of us with a flick of your hand and they feared you for that display, but that was it. You couldn’t hold us together. You couldn’t even keep yourself from getting wea—”

“And you think Lilith could?” Rowena interrupted coldly, to the surprise of the demons. “Oh, aye, I know about her return. You demons love to gossip and the walls have ears and all that.”

“If we collect plenty of fresh human souls, we’ll back Lilith up to retake the throne. Hell will return in its former glory, back when it’s her and Azazel’s rule. Lilith will reward us for our efforts.”

Rowena sighed wistfully. “With you pushing your own agenda on Lilith without asking her what she wanted, I pity the lass. No wonder she never returned since her resurrection.” She encircled the three like a prey ready to pounce. “But the thing was, an archangel told me that he already eradicated what he called an infernal stain when it dared touch him per his Daddy’s orders. Since you’re so loyal to the old administration, I’ll be happy to send you to where she is.” 

A crackle of energy rang within the confines of the abandoned warehouse. “They say a monarch should be lenient to his or her subjects.” Purple lightning danced around her fingers, promising unearthly pain. “But you broke the only rule I set upon you and I can’t forgive that.” 

“You’re not a queen. You’re a dog like your son,” the demon hissed amidst the growing noise of Rowena’s magic poised to strike. “You’re their bitch.” 

“Worse,” came suddenly Dean’s voice. “She’s a friend of ours.” 

A gleeful smile appeared on Rowena’s face. “What the lad said.”

There was a flash of purple light that clouded Sam and Dean’s visions briefly until it revealed a pile of charred corpses and the powerful smell of sulfur and burnt flesh. 

Rowena remained standing in the middle of it all, almost despondent before Sam approached to touch her shoulder. 

Sam wasn’t sure whether what took him off-guard was the solid form that met his palm or when she staggered backward for a split-second before catching herself, keeping a distance between her and Sam. 

“Rowena? Are you alright?”

“I am, Samuel. I am,” she said distractedly, glancing around the room where the seven more meatsuits were lying about, untouched by her strike. “I’ll send someone to dispose of the others. Let me take care of the rest. Good job, boys.” 

“Look me in the eye when you say you’re fine.”

Rowena's attention snapped at Sam’s firm tone that left no room for argument. 

“Just tell me if you’re okay,” Sam tried again, gently this time. “It’s not easy, what you’re doing right now, and it’s fine if you’re not alright.”

“Why, Sam? Can you do something if I tell you I’m not?” she bit back bluntly. Sam was instantly ashamed that he couldn’t answer, an apology at the tip of his tongue. “That’s what I figure.”

She turned her back on him in favor of Dean. “I owe you two, and I don’t forget my debts. Expect a payment from me soon.”

Rowena left with the same shimmer of her exit, leaving Sam and Dean to their own devices. 

Dean was swift to pull Sam out of his reverie, grabbing him by his shoulder. “You heard her. Let’s grab a drink before we hit the road.”

Sam could tell that Dean was brimming with several questions but was keeping it to himself. Sam appreciated Dean’s understanding and hoped that he would get Sam too once he told him what he has been meaning to tell his brother. 

It would be a long ride back home. 

✺✺✺

Sam realized that he severely overestimated what he knew about Hell.

He could call Cas over at Bobby’s cottage. He and Jack have been there for a while for the next step of the plan to strengthen Jack. They’ve been pretty scarce with the details, but Sam and Dean have their full confidence. Besides, Sam couldn’t be sure if Chuck’s eyes were still on them despite his distinct absence for more than a month now; the less they knew of the plan that involved Jack, the better.

Although, with the absence of the two people who could have helped Sam in his research, Sam was left to figure it all out on his own. The Men of Letters have studied demons but there were hardly any on Hell itself. 

Nothing to help Sam understand what exactly was Rowena’s present state. 

The demons practically said she was getting weak, and Jack mentioned that the throne served to gradually waste away whoever was sitting on it. The former rulers were killed, with the exception of Crowley who committed suicide to help the brothers; therefore, none of them technically died because of the throne. If a demon was to die, then it was to be sent to the Empty.

What of a soul then? Rowena was highly likely an unprecedented case, and Sam wondered what would happen to her after when she could no longer—

No, no, no. It was Rowena he was talking about here. She must have known what would happen before she took the throne. She was always prepared for the worst. Life was a rigged game for her that she took control of her own just to spite fate. She wouldn’t let death and her afterlife put her down for good.

Sam hunted with Dean, checked on Cas and Jack, then searched what he could learn about Hell. It became some sort of a routine for the following weeks of seemingly monotonous day-to-day. 

He was occupied enough, he supposed, to keep in mind the looming threat of Chuck.

“Hey,” Dean said one afternoon, rapping on the table to get Sam’s attention. “You busy?”

Sam merely raised the thick volume on his hand. 

“Right. Might want to check something on Pontiac,” Dean said. “I’m going to Jody’s. She says shifters are being restless in the next town.” 

“What’s on Pontiac?”

“Eileen said a werewolf’s been running amok since last week. Possibly a newly-turned.” Dean tapped on his phone. “There. Told her you’ll back her up. Been asking for one since yesterday.” 

Sam pulled out his own phone and was greeted by more than seventeen texts from Eileen. Sheepishly, he glanced up at Dean and began to put away the books. 

“Might want to check your phone from time to time,” Dean reproved. “Look, Sammy, I know you mean well. Hell, I’m worried for Rowena too, but we know she can handle herself better than any of us. If she needs the help, she’ll ask for it.” He straightened his jacket and slipped a pistol on his waist. “All I’m saying is we have a more pressing concern as of now. We’re the people in the waiting game while Jack does his thing under Cas’s watch. We defeat Chuck and that’ll be it. We’ll move on to the next issue and I’ll even help you out with it.” Dean considered his next words. “But for now… for now, bear with me, Sammy. We need to keep our heads together.” 

“I know, Dean. It’s just—” 

_What if we’re too late? What if there’s no after when Chuck’s finally put away or dead?_

If Jack killed Chuck, then what? Would that hopeless future overrun by monsters Chuck showed him happen? 

There was so much uncertainty here that Sam didn’t want to wait for the ‘when’ to do what he needed to do.

“No, you’re right. Sorry. I was being stubborn,” Sam muttered ruefully. “I’ll go after Eileen. Might as well catch her up with what we have.”

Sam drove to where Eileen was staying, and it was during the drive that he remembered that he wasn’t prepared for it. 

Should he, though? They parted on good terms, albeit with the need in her part to figure things out. She promised that she would be back if she finally found that clarity and examined the validity of her own feelings. 

Yet here Sam was, going to her and expecting they would reunite in a professional environment, just two hunters about to clear a nest of werewolves. 

And he shed those make-believe expectations when he saw her again. She looked better, healthier; still troubled and exhausted, Sam noted sympathetically, but her eyes were clearer, less burdened. Sam knew it would take her a while to get better after her own experience in Hell, but she was on the right path to living past the trauma.

They greeted each other in a crushing embrace, and Sam was happy for her. He was happy that at least he saved the light that was Eileen after everything. 

They spent the night talking and talking and talking like long-lost friends who met each other again. In a way, that was true. She was back, the same Eileen Sam used to spend the late evenings chatting with through Skype. 

It was ironic that the single evening had reignited their friendship better than the time she spent over at the bunker. She was no longer Chuck’s eyes and ears, and Sam couldn’t be more grateful. 

She spoke of hunting through the state, how it helped her reconnect with old friends inside and outside the hunting community. She began to take classes in the local college, she said, about time she worked her way to the second degree she was meaning to take: psychology. 

“And you?” Eileen asked over their Chinese takeout dinner. “You haven’t said much after your trip to Alaska.”

Sam told her about Lady Luck and the origin of the pagan gods. Eileen was equally mesmerized at the revelation, and Sam couldn’t blame her; he was too. They’ve encountered numerous entities before but none explained how they came to this world. Even Gabriel didn’t make them privy to their creation. 

“I’ve been dabbling with minor witchcraft recently,” Sam admitted. “Rowena encouraged me.”

Eileen appeared delighted at the tidbit. “You two are speaking again?”

“For a while,” Sam told her. “I might have messed up on her last visit.”

He tried to keep the dejection out of his voice, though it must have been obvious to her, especially when it prompted her to ask probing questions. Eileen never met Rowena before, and what she knew was purely from what Sam had told her. Eileen, however, seemed to know more than what Sam was letting on—probably more than what Sam knew, actually. He wouldn’t be surprised. 

Briefly, he entertained the notion of Eileen and Rowena meeting in person; either they would become quick adversaries or fast friends. Sam was afraid there wouldn’t be in-between. 

By midnight, they have the makings of a plan to bring down a single werewolf. They set out at dawn, and between the two of them and the unaware creature, it was a job that was finished within an hour. 

It wasn’t often that Sam would go out hunting with someone who wasn’t his brother, but it was astounding how coordinated he and Eileen were as if they’ve been working together for long. 

They burned the pieces they found of the unknown victims and hoped that it was enough to grant them peace in their deaths. They’ve been mutilated like animals; the least Sam and Eileen could do was to give them a clean send-off. 

The fire burned brightly before the sun could reach its peak, the embers shining over the hunters’ somber faces. Sam noticed a nick on Eileen’s left cheek that wasn’t from any of the dried blood spatters on her skin. There was a sense of vulnerability in her at the moment that Sam was seized with the instinct to keep her protected. 

It wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling to Sam, and it was then that he came to an epiphany that he recognized that particular fondness that he has for Eileen. 

Sam loved her, loved her the way he loved Charlie, the closest to a sister that he and Dean ever had. 

And Sam wanted to protect Eileen because he didn’t want her to be another Charlie again, another family that he unexpectedly lost when he could have avoided it.

Eileen hugged him once more before they parted, and this time there was an unspoken acknowledgment there that the affection they have for each other was familial but just as strong and unbreakable. 

They wouldn’t have it any other way.

✺✺✺

Chuck hit them when they least expected it. 

He made his covert entrance upon his return to this world, easily dismissable as natural disasters. It began as an untamable forest fire in a country in the Pacific, followed by the eruption of a volcano inactive for centuries while the third came in the form of an earthquake in the neighboring states. 

Sam was uneasy when the news struck the internet. Usually, he and Dean would focus on the gruesome unsolved murders, but the disasters shaking the world were calling attention to themselves. They reeked of the supernatural like they were particular displays of might. 

“God’s back,” Billie said when she showed up in the war room one day and that was the sole warning they got before Chuck decided to play fast and loose with this world. 

In the span of twenty-four hours since Chuck’s return, God rained down his fury in the form of calamities, plagues, outbreaks of airborne diseases, deluge, landslides, inexplicable deaths among the children and the old, and the ominous signs brought by flocks of birds and herds of cattle. 

The cherry on top was Chuck blowing the gate to Purgatory wide open. 

“Where’s the angel?” 

“Go to Hell.” 

“Wrong answer, Winchester.”

Sam felt Eve’s morphing claws digging on his abdomen, slicing through muscles, reaching for his organs and _twisting_. 

Sam screamed. 

Sam didn’t know how long he was Eve’s captive.  
  
  


He came and went out of consciousness out of sheer pain all over his body. Frankly, he wasn’t sure either how he was still alive at the amount of blood that had gushed out of him. 

He wondered where Dean might be. Was he alright? Was he also held captive by Eve and the Leviathans in a separate place? Did they get Cas too? Sam dearly wished they hadn’t, that Cas and Jack were able to fend for themselves. 

And Jack… if Jack ended up using his powers, did that mean Chuck was finally aware of his resurrection? 

Worry was swimming about inside Sam’s addled mind; worry for his brother, his best friend, Jack, Eileen, Jody, and everyone else, everyone else who did not deserve to experience this in their lives. 

Sam was able to move his hand weakly against the binds. His fingers reached the secret pocket and thumbed the pendant nestled safely within. He had the forethought to remove it around his neck and hide it before they took him to this place. 

Sam recognized the faint hum of magic from the amulet, and it was enough of an assurance that Rowena was alright, likely in Hell or helping out Dean and Cas in mitigating the present hurdle Chuck threw at them.

He clenched the pendant in his palm like it was lending him the strength to survive this whole ordeal. Her magic was warm on his skin, and Sam held on to that thrum of energy for a lifeline. 

Sam would survive this. He has to. 

He has to…

  
  


When Sam came to his senses, there were fingers carding his hair. 

They massaged his scalp and wiped his forehead a couple of times until a wet cloth replaced them. 

He thought he heard Dean’s muffled voice nearby, and while Sam couldn’t say for sure what he was saying, he was certain Dean was agitated and pacing anxiously. Occasionally, his eyes wanted to flutter open against the heaviness, to tell Dean he was fine. He _would_ live. 

Sam couldn’t fight off the exhaustion and the soreness that was weighing down on him. He wanted to simply sleep for a very long time. 

“It’s alright, Samuel,” said a female voice above him once Sam could no longer hear Dean. “It’s alright, dear. You can sleep,” she said, followed by a melodious lulling sound. 

Distantly, Sam knew who it was despite his half-consciousness, knew in his muddled mind whose voice it was.

Sam was safe. Sam would be safe with her. 

✺✺✺

Sam woke, and they told him he was out cold for three days.

Normally, Sam would be stupefied at the number of days he was out of commission, but what truly took him by surprise was the Dean who was immediately there by Sam’s side. 

Dean looked like he aged within the last few days. There were more lines around his face streaked with dirt, soot, and dried blood that wasn’t his. His smile of relief to find Sam awake was heart-wrenching. 

Dean hugged him tightly and Sam let him, squeezing back with the whole strength he has. 

His brother kept him up to date and told him how the half of the entirety of the US was overrun with monsters that preyed on the humans—at least, what remained after the devastation Chuck unleashed that was practically for the purpose of wiping the slate clean. 

“A mass kill off. Billie and his reapers have been busy,” Dean said wryly.

“And Jack? Cas?”

“They were over at the cottage still before the communication lines went down,” Dean said. “Rowena will send a demon to check on them. I would have gone there myself if I could. My gut says they’re fine, and I trust it, but still.” 

“I know,” Sam rasped. “I’m worried too, but if Rowena said she’ll send someone, I’m sure she will.” He inclined his head, frowning. “Is she here?”

“Outside,” Dean answered. “Who do you think provided us one of Crowley’s old hugeass safe house?” 

Sam’s eyes roamed around the room. Now that Dean mentioned it, it was a rather ornate bedroom he found himself in; the bed even has a friggin canopy. 

  
“She found you,” Dean added. “Something about the necklace or whatever that you have. Said she found you that way.” 

Sam fumbled for the pocket in his pants. He remembered keeping the amulet inside securely. He has no idea how it worked—like a magical GPS, maybe? 

“It does have an ounce of luck in it. You ended up not dying for one thing despite your injuries. She did heal you with magic afterward.” 

Dean gestured at Sam’s chest and abdomen that were supposed to be cut up right then similar to a gutted fish. Sam still felt weak from the blood loss, though there was nary a trace of any wound on his skin. 

“God, Rowena’s right: we do owe her plenty, even more so after she ripped Eve a new one.” 

Sam chuckled when he thought he heard Dean mutter fondly under his breath what a badass woman she was. 

Dean explained that the other hunters they were able to assemble were presently staying at the bunker, Jody, Donna, the girls, and Bobby included in the bunch.

“Eileen’s outside if you’re curious.” Dean cocked his head knowingly. “She’s been helpful fetching some of our old allies, and when she’s not out she’s checking on you.”

“I’ll go see her later if I can catch her,” assured Sam. He debated for a moment; he knew there were more pressing matters at hand but no time like the present to clear this one up. “We’re not like that, Dean, just so you know.”

“Not like what?” Dean looked like he was humoring him. 

“What you think we are. We both entertained the possibility before, but when we met again for that werewolf case, we realized that it wasn’t that at all.” Sam fiddled with the pendant. For some strange reason, he didn’t want to part with it yet, not when he found out it basically saved his life. “I love her, yeah, but it’s different. And if ever there was a chance for something else, it already passed.”

“Oh. I don’t—” Dean scratched the back of his head. Sam recognized it as one of Dean’s ticks whenever he was being sheepish. 

Sam gave a slight wave. “It’s okay. You get a free pass for being the older brother.” 

“Well, yeah. Of course, I should,” Dean muttered petulantly, surreptitiously observing and taking note of the way Sam played with the necklace on his hand, a frown etching between his brows like he was solving a puzzle in his head. “I didn’t know. I just want you to be happy. Make a family with someone who gets it. It’s one in a thousand chance, Sammy.”

“I know, Dean, I appreciate it. You’ve looked out for me almost my whole life, that’s why now I want to tell you that I can be happy even if it’s with someone else or no one at all.” Sam smiled. “Let me sweat out this stuff for myself, okay? And I won’t bother you with yours,” he added lightly.

At the pointed look Sam gave him, Dean merely appeared thoroughly confused, much to Sam’s amusement. 

✺✺✺

Once he was stable on his feet, Sam went to check the large makeshift infirmary they set up at the wide enclosed yard that came along with the mansion. 

Sam was assaulted with the sight of the numerous injured: the bitten, the scratched, the almost mutilated, the ones with a limb or two torn off—

“Not pretty, I know, but trust me that we’re able to save them from fate worse from death,” Sam heard Dean beside him. “That section over there is for those bitten by vamps. They’re kept from turning with the cure, so are those opposite them that got bitten by werewolves. The challenge is the continuous supply of the cures, but the witches are doing their best.” 

At a distance, Sam spotted the familiar face of Max Bane with her sister, Alicia, whom Sam remembered dying yet standing there with her brother and tending with the injured. 

Dean followed Sam’s line of vision and heaved a small sigh. “Story for later, Sammy. I’m just glad they’re here. It’s all that matters for now.”

Sam nodded. While he was concerned about what it took Max to bring back his sister, that could be saved for later. His eyes darted around the area, from the patients to the unknown young witches present to help out. These people were saved because differences were set aside for this dire situation, and Sam felt a surge of optimism.

Chuck might have brought massive death over what used to be his beloved creations, and still they stood strong and held on fast. 

Not yet. The fight wasn’t done yet. 

Sam was the first to notice Rowena from across the area, and he watched as she gave pointers to some of the younger witches, carefully pointing at certain passages in both the Book of the Damned and the Black Grimoire. 

Sam found it rather humorous that he and Dean were long past the days where they used to keep those two books away from the deadliest witch that ever lived. 

He must have stared a second longer because the next thing he knew Rowena’s eyes were meeting his in return.

Neither wanted to break the eye contact, and Sam took the chance to study her face from a distance; she appeared younger with her lightly colored face, and her red hair was down once more, curls falling gracefully over her simple gray shift that was hardly an attire for royalty.

But somehow… somehow she made herself look regal nonetheless. Not that Sam expected any less.

Tentatively, he raised a hand like a shy teenager. Rowena’s mouth twitched with a hint of mirth but otherwise relieved to see him up and about. 

Sam wanted nothing but move over to her and cross the distance between them in an instant. 

“Sam?”

He heard his name being called from behind and got an armful of Eileen gathering him in her arms, squeezing him with almost an inhuman strength that Sam couldn’t prevent the surprised laugh that escaped him. 

“Hey.” Sam returned the gesture, closing his eyes briefly. “I’m okay now,” he told her, rubbing her back comfortingly. “I’m okay.”

Eileen pulled away from him to get a good look at his overall pale complexion. Like Dean, she was exhausted, the weariness of the recent days wearing down on her too. 

Sam was reminded again how human they were; what were they compared to the Creator himself? But here they were doing their best to fight and push back against that giant hand that wanted to bring them. 

Whatever it took, they said. 

Sam glanced at Rowena’s direction and was dismayed to find her attention already elsewhere. 

Rowena was grim when she approached Sam and Dean. An unknown demon lackey of hers followed her steps like a shadow, unassuming and subservient. 

“It’s about Jack and the angel,” she said. “They’re no longer at Bobby’s cottage.”

“What?” Dean turned to the demon, face white. “What does she mean by that?” he demanded. 

“They’re gone,” said the demon in an even voice once he got permission to speak. “There’s no sign of a fight, but there’s no sign of them either.” 

“Just like that? Like they just vanished into thin air?” 

“Unless you have another explanation for it, Winchester,” the demon bit back. 

“I do, and it’s called ‘I didn’t look hard enough’.”

“Dean,” Sam started, easing himself beside his brother to placate him. “He’s telling us what he saw. It’s not his fault Cas and Jack aren’t there anymore.”

“Then where the hell are they, Sam? They were hiding from Chuck, but what if he knew? What if Chuck has them now? What if—” 

“If God indeed has the angel and the boy, I’m pretty sure he’ll gloat right now,” Rowena interrupted. “You know God. You know his ego. He won’t pass up the chance.”

She wasn’t wrong there, Sam thought. They knew Chuck and how he didn’t want to get his hands dirty, and if there was one thing he wanted to hold over Sam and Dean’s heads, it was their useless struggle to be freed from his script. 

In short, if Chuck truly did find out about Billie’s plan and eliminated Jack for it, they would know it immediately from God himself. 

“I’ll try and scry the boy or the angel. Either of them should work,” Rowena announced, appeasing Dean a bit. She nodded at the demon. “Gilbert, fetch my tools.” 

“Rowena, wait,” Sam called when she began walking away. She paused on her steps patiently. “Do you need assistance?”

The sincerity of the question brought her a small smile. “I would have asked you to observe me for future reference, but maybe next time, giant.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

“Unless you have Death on speed dial. She’s the only one I can think of who might know your angel and the boy’s whereabouts. Otherwise, I suggest resting, Samuel; unless that’s your own way of contacting Death herself?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “I know. I look like death warmed over,” he acknowledged. Alright, so maybe he was also a little nauseous with the sudden moving around. “Thank you, by the way. Dean told me that you saved me. I owe you one.” 

“At this point, I consider us quits,” she said. She seemed to mull over something for a moment before shaking her head lightly. “I’ll see you around, Samuel, angel and Nephilim to find and all that.”

Sam ambled to the side, watching her back disappear within the house and debating with himself whether he should reach out to her again and ask if she was alright.

Somehow, he thought he should have said something more when he had the chance. 

He refused to admit that he has a feeling they wouldn’t be able to talk again for quite some time. 

* * *

**TBC**


	2. Fate

Within the magically fortified premises of the safe house and the capable hands aiding them, Sam found it easy to be lulled into the sense of security. 

The outside was a different matter altogether. 

Sam accompanied the group composed of his brother, Eileen, and Alternate Charlie. It was decided that they move out in small numbers to not alert the possible roaming groups of monsters that were reported to be doing their own hunts either during the darkness of the night or the light of the day. As a precaution, they set out at noon.

Dean would occasionally glance at him with a mark of concern that Sam would merely shrug at as a form of assurance. Sam was back on his feet with no small amount of energy and adrenaline. He attributed the quick recovery to Rowena’s healing. 

The main roads were quiet with vacated vehicles parked and…

A dead child’s eyes stared vacantly up at Sam, from a small redheaded girl with a torn neck and wounded chest. The corpse started decaying, the smell rancid, but Sam was unable to move forward from the display of devastation. 

Sam had seen his fair share of gruesome sights in all his years, and while he had seen _worse_ , the thought of the vibrant red hair of a kid once full of life had turned dull and ashen together with her body tugged horribly inside Sam’s chest. 

The little girl died away from her family, feasted on like a kind of prized meat, and no one had been there to hear her cry for help. 

“Sam,” Dean called. “Sam, we have to move.”

“Yeah,” Sam whispered, casting one last look at the little girl. “Let’s go.”

Nobody else spoke while they went on their way.

The supply run was methodical: fetch what they needed such as food, water, clothes, blankets, bullet rounds, melee weapons, and medicines for the hunters camping over the bunker at the moment. Charlie suggested that a witch be sent there as well to assist Alex, the only paramedic present, and Sam and Dean thought it was valid. There was an agreement to ask Rowena if there was someone to spare.

Aside from a couple of strays that were bold enough to confront them futilely, there was no immediate threat that presented itself. Dean likened it to the typical scenario in a zombie movie except without the sudden hoard of zombies when the characters thought they would return to the camp smoothly.

It should be discomfiting, the ease of the process, though, with the hunting experience between the four of them and the general lack of activity from the monsters, they called it efficient instead. 

That was until Charlie discovered a human boy apparently hiding behind the cashier counter after mistaking the four of them as the wraiths who came back to kill him after they eliminated and took the boy’s whole family early that morning. The boy was hungry, terrified, and sickly pale when he shared his story. 

“Come with us,” Eileen said, kneeling by the boy’s side. “We have survivors like you. Some are children too. You’ll be taken care of.”

The boy glanced at each of them warily, conflicted. “I—I’m not sure,” he said frightfully, especially at Sam and Dean. “We were to go to my uncle and cousin’s place. It’s not far. C-Can you bring me there?”

“Kid, listen.” Sam struggled for a minute how to break the bad news to the boy. “The survivors around this area are with us. Your uncle and his family could be staying in our place. You can look for them there.”

“No, no, no. They’re in their house. I know it!” The boy insisted.

“My brother’s telling the truth,” Dean said tersely. “They could be already with us, and if not,” he sighed, “they’re dead.”

The boy was close to bursting into tears but remained steadfast, shaking his head defiantly. “No, they’re alive. I heard them on Mama’s radio earlier. They said they’re okay.” He hiccupped. “That’s before when Mama and Tony—that’s when they… when…”

“Shh, it’s okay, kiddo,” Charlie shushed the kid, patting him on the back for consolation. “It’s okay. We know.”

“Did we have a newcomer today?” Eileen asked Dean. “Because if not, maybe he’s right. Maybe his uncle is still alive, hiding carefully. We have to get them.”

Dean fixed his jaw, thinking carefully. Sam, meanwhile, seemed to have already made up his mind.

“Think we should?” Dean asked him.

“It shouldn’t be a question, Dean.”

“I know, Sam, but I have a bad feeling about this.”

“I get it. Hell, even I feel on edge, but it’ll be worth it if we save more people.”

Dean was torn to make the decision, and Sam understood how his brother put his trust in his intuition. Though with the clock running, they couldn’t afford to make any reluctance that would prolong their trip.

Finally, Dean gave a nod, addressing the boy. “Alright, kid, where is this place?”

Dean was right.

Dean’s gut was always right. 

Sam thought back to where it started to go wrong, but he _couldn’t_ , not when his large hand was busy staunching the steady bleeding on Eileen’s side. 

It was a trap—the boy, the rescue— 

Everything reeked of a trap that they should have seen a mile away. 

Dean floored the gas, jolting the half-conscious Charlie on the passenger side. He cursed when he had to make a sharp turn through a shortcut back to the safe house. 

Charlie’s breath was getting shallower and shallower and her face gradually drained of color for every minute that trickled by. They weren’t able to look closely on her injury, but if they were to base it from her state, she was just as worse than Eileen who got her lung punctured. She insisted that she would take care of her own injury, pressing the now sopping wet red rag with her numb fingers. 

Sam knew Charlie was trying her best to keep herself awake, claiming that Eileen needed immediate attention more and— _goddamnit_ , they both needed medical attention as soon as possible. 

The bitten-off part of Eileen’s leg was carefully bound with the bandages they got from the supply run. It was a rugaru, the creature that managed to corner her amidst the tumultuous surprise attack. 

The boy was the bait of the motley group of monsters composed of wraiths, rugaru, and ghouls that lived together and maintaining a kind of a mutualistic relationship. If the boy was even human, they never did find out for sure after Sam and Dean bolted out of the nest, carrying the injured Charlie and Eileen.

Dean was out of the Impala once he killed the engine, carefully bringing out Charlie and tapping her cheek to keep her awake. Sam, meanwhile, carried out Eileen and rushed inside towards the makeshift infirmary. 

Rowena immediately saw them, and Sam could only look back at her helplessly as Eileen remained on his arms, limp. 

Rowena was ushering him and Dean to the unoccupied cots in an instant. The brothers gingerly laid their charges down next to each other, and Rowena stood at the space between Charlie and Eileen, her expression perturbed and worn. 

Dean was the one to explain what happened while Rowena went to check their vitals. Carefully, she removed the bloodied bandages and ordered Dean to fetch her a clean basin of water and fresh towels. 

“What do I do, Rowena?” Sam asked fretfully after Dean practically flew to comply. “Tell me what I have to do.”

“I’ll perform a healing spell,” Rowena readily said. “You can help me with it.”

“What do we need?”

“Nothing, Samuel, but you have to know that it’s a dark spell.”

“I don’t care,” Sam said decisively. “I’ll work the spell with you.” 

There was a brief conflict that crossed Rowena’s features before she extended her hands to Sam, a reminiscent of the spell they performed back in the crypt. Sam’s own hands were entwined with solid ones; cold but corporeal nonetheless. 

_Mahday, eelohtah sahn._

_Serloh, eelohtah._

Sam repeated the chant, holding tightly on Rowena, believing their combined strength would save Charlie and Eileen. Sam gripped that hope without getting any indication that it was working, these Sumerian words he was uttering. 

There was a surge of current that began to pull from within Sam, growing and growing until it spread from his chest to his torso and up to his limbs like a spike of electricity. Rowena seemed to have sensed the same thing, nodding at Sam encouragingly, their voices rising. 

Rowena’s eyes turned purple, an otherworldly glow coming off of her that washed over Sam and extended over to Charlie and Eileen. Sam couldn’t see it, but he thought the same phenomenon was also happening to him as well. 

Sam’s eyes fluttered close, the words starting to be spoken unconsciously. The more his veins were further charged with the same wave of magic, the stronger and clearer was the sensation as if Sam wanted to keep going, as if he didn’t want to stop if it meant having the similar intoxication.

There was lightness in him, a clarity that he hasn’t felt in a very long time, and Sam wanted to be taken away by that tide that beckoned him rhythmically, alluringly. 

“Sam… Sam, open your eyes.”

Sam wanted to stay, though it was difficult to fight off the voice that coaxed him out of his musing. When he finally opened his eyes, there were hands cradling his face, urging him to look straight to her. Rowena. 

“I warned you,” she said without heat, only a feeble look of understanding. “It worked, but it was still dark magic.”

Sam blinked as if he came from sleep. Mildly perplexed, he whirled and found Dean standing by the side, keeping whatever opinion he might have to himself and nodding his head towards Charlie and Eileen. 

Their pallid complexions returned to normal, and the only traces of their previous injuries were the bandages and the torn clothes that were haphazardly bound to them. 

Sam breathed a sigh of relief, pulling a blanket over Eileen to her chin. Tenderly, he pushed away the hair off her face and grabbed a wet cloth to clean her face. Dean started doing the same to Charlie’s arm. It was a relieving gesture for them, after. 

“Thank you,” Sam said, turning to Rowena. “Couldn’t have done it without you.”

“You boys couldn’t really do anything on your own,” she pointed out, a little tiredly. 

Sam mustered a smile that quickly vanished as soon as it came when Rowena staggered backward. “Rowena?” 

“I’m fine, Samuel,” Rowena replied distractedly, stepping back and frowning at what she was seeing on herself that Sam couldn’t discern. “Just—No… No way—”

Rowena swayed on the spot before falling unconscious too fast for Sam to catch. 

She didn’t hit the floor, however, much to Sam’s relief, though also much to his and Dean’s surprise over who caught Rowena on time. 

“Stubborn woman,” Adam muttered, lifting Rowena effortlessly. “I told her the vessel remains imperfect.” He glanced at the brothers, addressing them, “Winchesters.” He stared down at Rowena. “I’ll bring her inside.”

Adam vanished in front of them. Sam has an idea where he flew to, following upstairs inside the house and entering the room with the open door when Dean assured him he would watch over Charlie and Eileen. 

“Adam,” said Sam breathlessly, looking back and forth between his half-brother and Rowena lying in bed. “What—What’s wrong with her?”

“Adam is… resting,” Michael said. “He insisted that we find Rowena. She didn’t say where she went and asked us to stay in Hell for a while.” He tilted his head, the grace on his palm sweeping over her head. “She has been taxing herself.” 

“Is she… Is she going to be alright?” Sam asked, moving closer to the side of the bed. Rowena looked like she was merely sleeping, though she wasn’t breathing. A vessel, Michael had said. At closer inspection, it almost looked how she was in life.

Except it didn’t have the little imperfections like the little freckles across her cheeks and the lines on her face that were usually concealed with her makeup. 

“Her soul is waning,” Michael answered, deep in thought. “A damned soul is not supposed to stay in Hell for too long without turning into a demon. It’s necessary for a soul to be turned if it is to live in Hell.” His gaze flickered down on Rowena. “She could have been a demon out of her own choice, especially before she took the throne. She knew what would happen, but she refused.” 

“And now she bears the power of Hell itself,” Sam murmured. “She sits on a throne that serves to bind and waste Lucifer himself.” 

She took the position not because it was what she wanted—before, maybe, but not anymore. She took it as her penance.

Sam sat by her side, enclosing his palm around her hand. She was right; Sam didn’t know what he could do to get her out of her predicament. 

The question was if she would even let him. 

Behind Sam, he heard Michael let out a snort. Puzzled, Sam glanced at the archangel and found him staring at him critically with a raised eyebrow. 

“Figures,” the archangel said, scratching the back of his head. “Hello, Sam.”

“Adam?”

“Right now,” Adam said. He went to the other side of the bed and sat there, his back on them. “Rowena said that God was looking for Michael. She asked that we stay in Hell to hide in the meantime. And because Michael didn’t want to see his father as well, he took Rowena’s advice that he shouldn’t be using his grace to keep him hidden. Rowena left after she said she would be back soon. It was obviously a lie.”

“She didn’t know, Adam,” Sam said. “Rowena could have stayed in Hell, but she chose to fight because this fight is greater than any of us.” 

“No,” Adam said shortly. He shook his head defiantly. “She left Hell the moment she heard a call. It was you, wasn’t it?” He scoffed. “Is it because you have her in your own pocket that you think she’s at your beck and call?”

“Of course not. Adam, you misunderstand. I didn’t—”

“I might have been in Hell for a long time, but I’m not an idiot, Sam,” Adam retorted. “Why else are you wearing Rowena’s favor?”

Sam heard it before from one of the rogue demons. He hadn’t comprehended the meaning of it then—still hasn’t, frankly—though if he put more thought into it, a part of his mind knew. 

Unconsciously, his fingers touched the pendant sitting on his chest. “Rowena said that when she heard about me and Dean losing our luck, she created a simple charm for good luck. It wasn’t on par with Lady Luck’s, she told me, but I kept it because it was a gift from her.” 

Adam clicked his tongue as he stood from the bed. He studied Sam, huffing and crossing his arms. “I believe you mainly because I don’t know who’s stupider between the two of you. Rowena for giving someone that kind of power over her to someone or you for not knowing.”

“Well, now I do,” Sam said a little frustratingly. “I don’t want that kind of power in my hands, more so with the risk of someone getting ahold of it. I’ll give it back to her.” He fiddled with the necklace around his neck. “But thank you for telling me.”

“Does it matter, Sam? Does it matter anymore when she’s already close at her limit because you let her?” Adam accused. “Because you and Dean burn the people around you.” 

It hurt. It hurt to hear the truth from the person they did a great injustice to. 

“I won’t defend myself and Dean because you’re right, Adam. People we love have been killed and tortured due to our own actions and decisions, and I’m sorry that you’re one of them,” Sam said, his voice thick with guilt and deep-seated regrets. “I’m sorry that we chose to move on with our lives instead of fighting to get you back.”

Sam hated to see that Adam looked like he was struck across his face with the harsh truth. He closed his eyes briefly, hiding the anger, betrayal, and disappointment. 

Sam and Dean remembered when they first learned of their half-brother, how there was anger for John for having a child with another woman when they thought there was only Mary; the resentment for the boy who was apparently related to them. Dean had outright disliked Adam and had been annoyed when he thought Sam hadn’t shared the same feeling. Dean hadn’t known that Sam had been too, initially, until it had been swiftly replaced by the delight that he would have had the chance to be an older brother to someone. 

By the end of that day, they had learned that while they shared the same blood, Adam was nothing like them, and they’d rather he wouldn’t be like them: broken, scarred, and worn early by life. Adam had a normal life that didn’t involve the supernatural, and Sam and Dean had wanted that for Adam, at least. 

They failed spectacularly at that goal and look how that turned out. 

Adam breathed deeply as if calming himself, turning away. “She’s my friend, Sam. Rowena is a friend that I didn’t know I’ll still have after Hell, after everything,” he admitted hoarsely. “I don’t want her to abandon me like my mom and my half-brothers did.” 

“We did not do right by you, Adam, but believe me when I say I’ll do whatever it takes to keep Rowena from her demise,” Sam promised him. “For now… For now, the least I can do is to honor her decision because if there’s one thing I trust, it’s her strength. Rowena won’t let herself fade if she doesn’t want to.”

Adam looked torn and mournful to accept that promise. Sam was hit right then how young Adam looked despite the archangel residing in him. 

_God_ , he was still that boy who was forced to grow up in Hell. 

In a blink, Adam was gone right in front of Sam, out of reach once more. If Adam believed him, Sam might probably never know. 

✺✺✺

Sam woke to fingers carding his hair. 

He was leaning by the edge of the side of the bed, on the floor with his back angled uncomfortably with the position he fell asleep in. He peered upwards and found Rowena hovering over him. 

“Well, well, if Sleeping Beauty isn’t awake,” Rowena said above him, poking his cheek. 

“Rowena.” Sam immediately straightened, the last dregs of sleepiness escaping him. “How are you feeling?”

She languidly sat on the bed before letting herself fall back on the mattress. “I’ve been better,” she replied as she stared at the ceiling. “No,” she corrected. “I feel thin, sort of stretched, like butter scraped over too much bread.”

Sam’s eyebrows rose in mild surprise, a hint of a smile gracing his lips. “Are you quoting _Lord of the Rings_ to me?”

“It’s the closest I can think of.” Rowena moved to her right and patted the space beside her. “Come here, Samuel.”

She thought it funny, the second of hesitance out of embarrassment that didn’t escape her notice, though she didn’t comment. 

Sam shifted to his side. The sole light within the room was coming from the faint sundown that managed to seep through the window, an orange shade that outlined Rowena and pronounced the redness of her hair further. 

She caught him staring, and Sam was past caring to turn away abashedly.

“Like what you see?” Rowena teased. 

“It’s near dark. I can barely see you, to be honest,” Sam jested. 

Rowena stirred to her side, chuckling while she faced Sam. Sam savored the short moment of tenderness and tranquility, and for a while there was no world to save, no God to defeat, no people to save. 

Just him and her. 

“How are they?” she asked. “Charlie and Eileen?”

“When I left them with Dean, they seemed to be okay. Resting probably,” he said. “You saved them.”

“We both did.”

“It didn’t take out too much from me as it did from you,” Sam pointed out. 

“It doesn’t work that way, Samuel. A spell is only as good as its caster, and the fact that I’m not in my tiptop shape means my magic is weak.” Rowena tutted before Sam could complain she was anything but weak. “That’s what it is, Samuel.”

Sam decided to let go of the argument seeing as Rowena wasn’t keen to dwell on it. 

“Although you got carried away too easily, you did good for a beginner,” she said. 

“The rush was familiar,” he confessed. “It wasn’t dissimilar back then with the demon blood—which was more addicting—but the magic was also…”

“…A heady sensation that you didn’t want to end, like you couldn’t stop if it meant ceasing that charge in your veins,” she finished for him with a wry knowing smile.

“Yeah,” Sam confirmed in a whisper. “Is that how it always is for you?”

“The feeling eventually faded when I made magic a part of me the same way breathing was,” Rowena said with a wistful sigh. She bit her lip, looking at Sam though it was distant. “When I was a wee girl and first made fire through words alone, I remembered the taste of power in my fingertips like I caught the rain while the lightning sang under my skin. Since then I made the water ripple, the air to blow stronger, the plants to bloom quicker, and various things only a bairn with innate magic fancied. It should have scared me, the threat of being burned at the stake for dabbling with what they called the Devil’s game, yet it didn’t. What merely scared me back then was the fear of being discovered by my father knowing he would hit me, disown me, and readily give me up to the church. Ironically, he did end up doing the first two for completely different reasons.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Why? You were not the one who threw me out.” Her eyes twinkled amusedly at the apology. “Nor were you Fergus’s father who denied my and his son’s existence.”

“I’m sorry that you’ve been failed by the people who mattered to you,” Sam said, offering what he thought was appropriate. 

“Well, I… am not.” Rowena noted Sam’s surprise before clarifying. “It hurt, and it was a pain that I carried throughout the centuries. That pain and experience transformed me into Rowena, the witch who never played by the Grand Coven’s rules, the hateful and bitter woman who only valued a person depending on their use. Tell me, Samuel, if I wasn’t that person, would we have crossed paths at all? If I had been the mother I should have been to Fergus, would there even be a Crowley? Would there even be a Rowena that you helped see through her redemption?” she asked meaningfully. “Would there be this kind of moment with you right now, talking in our pillows about pasts and similar experiences that only we both understood? If I’m given the chance to wipe the slate clean, to prevent myself from having all those hurt, I won’t, Sam. Certainly not when it meant you would be someone I wouldn’t get to know at all.” 

Sam was unable to tear his eyes away from her, not when Rowena was putting down the walls she put around her and laying her heart bare for Sam to see. 

And Sam… Sam would have said the same. 

“Stay,” Sam said. “After this—after Chuck. Please stay. I want you to stay.”

Rowena smiled feebly and forlorn. “You’re awfully sure there’s an after, Samuel.”

“I’m not,” he admitted. Sam suppressed the barrage of recollection from the possible future Chuck showed him. That wouldn’t happen, not when Sam has a say in it. “But I know we’ll make sure there will be.”

She stared at him, searching behind that determination. Sam let her if it meant appeasing her doubts. His fingers crept over hers as if a practiced gesture when it was the first time that he was this close to her, the first time he was this intimate.

“Samuel, I have a plan,” she said next like she found the right timing to speak of it. “I might know how to weaken God, at least for the chance to finish him off.” 

Rowena let him digest her revelation first knowing the reaction it would bring; Sam did not disappoint, his eyes wide and mind almost grinding to a stop. “How? So far it’s only the Darkness who can do that. It’s _God_. Weakening him is not even comparable to sealing him for good. It means creating a vacuum powerful enough to siphon all that force that makes up his being. That’s—” 

“Impossible?” she asked with a quirk of her mouth, hardly offended at Sam’s incredulity. She appeared encouraging, in fact. “It is theoretical,” she allowed. “But remember what I said about Death being an infinite vessel? The same concept should apply.”

“Rowena, if it’s going to be another suicidal plan then forget it.”

She rolled her eyes, snorting. “Barely. Except maybe the part where we lure God into the trap.” She sighed. “As I said, the concept is the same, but it won’t be Death that we’ll be using. Quite the opposite.” Rowena sat, and Sam mimicked the movement absently. “Life as we know it started with God, and the Creator breathed life to all things. Life is a boundless vessel. There’s no such thing as too much life, meaning it doesn’t matter if we cram in it the same amount of force.” 

“The same amount… It’ll be enough to be a vacuum,” Sam said with a curious tilt of his head. “Life itself will be taking from the one who created it, and the abundance shouldn’t affect everything else aside from Chuck because… it’s an infinite container and Chuck… Chuck isn’t limitless because we saw him weakened before against Amara; therefore, Chuck will be dried up by his own creation,” he concluded after finally connecting the dots. “Draining Chuck will be tremendously difficult but not impossible.” 

“Never said it’ll be easy, though you get the idea,” Rowena commented. There was pride in her expression that made Sam conscious. “We’ll dissipate God and feed him to Life, to put it crudely. There will be a downside such as the balance being unstable for an indefinite length of time depending on the strength of the divisor. Possibly the most notable will be the change in the ecosystem due to the likely return of extinct organisms or the creation of new ones. Some of the existing species might mutate and we’re not certain whether it’ll be for the better or for worse.”

“The monsters,” Sam recalled. “You mean they can evolve the same way they do in the Apocalypse World?”

“Exactly. And the reason that happened in the world was because of the spread of the copious amount of grace after the angels won the Apocalypse. That world was unstable then due to the minimal human life it had, though following the same logic it meant it was presently back to its former state of equilibrium after you rescued the people from that world. The land there might be overrun by various monstrosities, but it was balanced.” 

“Right. So that means we have to find this strong divisor that has a massive force that can replace the weight on the scale once Chuck’s gone, something with enough juice to balance it all out.” Sam’s breath hitched in realization. “Jack.”

“Aye. If anyone is powerful enough to be the divisor, it’ll be him. The challenge will be to locate Jack because he’s alive, Samuel. I may not know his location, but I know he’s alive,” she asserted. “I’ll continue scrying for the boy, of course, but while doing so, we can start preparing.”

“What will we need?” 

“Nothing else aside from the one we already have here in this room,” she answered vaguely, much to Sam’s confusion. “A white witch, Samuel.”

“You mean you?”

She snorted. “I’m hardly a white witch when I was alive,” she said. “I’m talking about _you._ ”

“Me,” Sam repeated. “I’m barely a witch, Rowena. Hell, I’m barely an apprentice. What more a white witch?”

Rowena sighed. “I don’t know whether that low self-esteem is supposed to be endearing or not,” she muttered, making Sam frown deeply. “As I said earlier, a spell is only as good as its caster. It doesn’t matter what title you might presently have, Samuel. When I say you have strong foundations and the making of a great witch, I mean it. You know I don’t throw praises like that carelessly, dear.”

Sam felt his cheeks warming. He thought it stupid to react like a bashful teen.

“Though while the title won’t have a bearing on your magical prowess, there are certain perks, if you will, if you’re labeled as a white witch,” she told him. “The first one will be the potency of healing spells. Not only that, you won’t be limited to healing humans and simple injuries as well. In time and with experience, all manner of creatures and kinds of sickness will be curable to you. The second is the way you’ll be more attuned to magic and nature. You’ll learn how to sense the magical aptitude of an individual and gauge their strength and weakness.” 

“But you can do those things without being a white witch yourself,” Sam pointed out. 

Rowena preened. “I can mainly because I’ve been in the craft for a couple of centuries, dear.” 

There was practically no downside to it, Sam realized; practical, even. Still, Rowena was giving him a chance to turn back despite knowing he would be eager to agree. Sam appreciated the thoughtfulness. “And you think I can be this kind of witch?”

“If you want to, yes,” Rowena said. “There will be another spell to name you a white witch that will be performed by another witch with a higher status: me who attained a high title—if not the highest our kind could achieve—the Ruler of Hell. And as long as the spell isn’t performed on you, you won’t bear the title and what comes along with it.” 

If ten years ago he was told that there would come a time where he would be given a choice to be a witch, he wouldn’t have believed it. 

“Then I’ll do it,” Sam readily said. “If that’s what I have to do to help put Chuck away for good, then I’ll do it, Rowena.”

She didn’t speak for a moment. She knew he would accept, and while she admired his willingness, there was still a trace of concern there.

“You have to keep in mind that since we’re to trap Chuck, you’ll be the first he’ll eliminate. Forget about being his favorite—God will know that if you succeed, he’ll be killed.” 

Sam snorted but nodded nonetheless. “I mean, we’re pretty much his target already, but, yeah, of course.”

“I keep forgetting that you and your brothers have been playing _heroes_ for too long,” she said, rolling her eyes faintly at the word, “that advice on less recklessness will be useless.”

“You make us sound suicidal,” Sam replied amusedly. 

“When are you not?”

“...okay, that’s fair,” Sam agreed. “You know, she called us that too. Lady Luck called us heroes despite the title technically fabricated for Chuck’s entertainment. We’re ‘heroes’ because he wants us to be.” 

“Does he want you to straight-up fight him too and off him for good?”

“Well, I don’t think so, but—”

“The point still stands then,” she interrupted. “You forget that while Chuck created the story and the characters, he’s not the one in charge of your actions and decisions. He might have led you to some paths down the road, but you surpassed his expectations and went off-script. He doesn’t like that and here we are.”

_Don’t play his game. Make him play yours._

It wasn’t clear to Sam before, though he believed that he was somehow getting the gist of it now. Chuck said that they were not following the story since Sam shot him with the gun, and Chuck had very minimal influence on the events that followed— _which was why he set up for Eileen to be resurrected, to be his unknowing eyes and ears on the brothers so Chuck could keep watch._

To sever their connection, Chuck made him lose hope by showing him the bleak future waiting for him and the rest of the world if they caged God: Cas would bear the mark, sealed inside the Malek box at the bottom of the ocean; the friends of the Winchesters would either die or abandon them; and all that weight of the decision the brothers made put a strain on their relationship and made them less cautious, foolhardy. 

And with a presently clearer mind, Sam remembered a couple of missing things in that supposed future. 

There was no mention of Jack then because Chuck didn’t know he was still alive and hidden in the Empty by Death. 

Rowena, however, wasn’t mentioned by Chuck at all, so was a hint related to Hell and the entirety of it. 

She could be one of the friends that he spoke of, of those who abandoned them. Could she really? Could she really have abandoned them when she didn’t have to be here and remain in Hell while topside was razed with Eve and her children? 

Either Chuck wasn’t aware of Rowena’s new status as the ruler of Hell or he greatly underestimated her. It was likely that Chuck didn’t know either of how she grew more than what she was before. 

So much for calling her one of his guilty pleasures. 

By that conclusion, it was highly possible that Chuck hadn't seen this outcome: Sam becoming a white witch. Chuck was very obsessed with either Sam or Dean turning evil, succumbing to that darkness and killing each other that he mustn’t have entertained the idea of the opposite. 

This was a move from them. This was their _own_ game. 

“Samuel?”

Sam leaned to the touch on his cheek and allowed himself the respite. “I’m okay,” he said sincerely. “For once, I think I know what we’re doing.”

“Granted, the plan is not solid yet and relies mostly on whether we’ll find Jack soon,” Rowena said. “Are you nervous to be a white witch, Sam?”

“A bit, yeah, but I know you’ll be there to guide me step by step.” 

“Still a flatterer, aren’t you?”

Sam gave a half-shrug and grinned impishly. “I have my moments,” he said. His eyes flickered over to her. “Is there somewhere you want to visit again?” he asked, apropos to nothing. 

Rowena tilted her head bemusedly, though she humored him. “Like a country?”

“Could be. Could be just a favorite spot or something.” 

“I’ve been partial to Greece and Japan,” she said, thinking on top of her head. “I don’t normally get attached to places, being here and there around the world, but I’ve been in those places twice or thrice.” She quirked an eyebrow. “And the reason for this is...”

“No reason,” Sam said a tad unconvincingly which Rowena wasn’t impressed with. “Okay, so maybe I’m thinking of a vacation. Would be great to go there with Dean, Cas, and Jack. A little trip.”

“Oh. A family vacation then.” 

“If you can come too, then that’ll be better. You said the places aren’t so bad.”

She squinted at him, and it took Sam’s willpower to not turn away from her scrutiny. “Oh, well, I suppose we’re way too old for the usual asking of taking someone out to dinner first,” she conceded. “Though I’m confused because I thought you and Eileen have been doing it right this time.” 

Sam wasn’t sure what to address first: his own (unconscious, mind) roundabout way of asking that when he could wave worded it better; the urge to smack himself for his tact comparable to, er, moose, probably; or Rowena’s tone of interest despite her feigned nonchalance. 

“Yeah, it’s nothing like that,” Sam found himself explaining for the nth time. “As I told Dean, Eileen is like a sister. Like Charlie.”

“I see,” Rowena muttered, seemingly unable to look directly at Sam now. Bashful wasn’t what Sam would associate with her, but it was fitting at the present. 

“I mean, she was probably thinking too that there was already someone else so...” Sam fumbled. “Because she’s right. There is someone.” 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah, and you’re right too; we’re too old for the usual asking of taking someone out to dinner first,” Sam put in indelicately. 

“You did want to take me out a few years back. With your witch-killing bullets, of course.” 

Sam didn’t know whether to laugh or wince at their rather complicated past. They’ve come a long way that Sam found it fascinating even. 

His mind wandered back to Death’s books, about him being the cause of Rowena’s demise. He wondered if her books remained continuous after her death, if Sam was still entwined with her fate one way or another. 

It occurred to Sam belatedly that here he was with Rowena, sitting on the very same bed, with all the confusion between them finally cleared out. She wasn’t the projection that she was on her previous visits to him and… and…

He could touch her now. He could kiss her over and over until he drank his fill. He wouldn’t let her go if she asked him to.

“Sam,” she said, almost soft and tender. “Come here and kiss me.”

There was no need to think, and it hardly mattered anymore that Sam was nerveless when he almost collapsed on her to connect his forehead with hers. His stomach churned with a pleasant ache of yearning and thought this seemed right—this was the one he was missing all this time. 

“Sammy!”

Sam’s mind came to a halt at the sound of Dean’s voice calling outside the door (which was fortunately shut or Sam would never hear the end of it). He heard himself sighing at the incessant banging, and at close proximity, he witnessed Rowena’s scowl of annoyance at the interruption. 

“Your brother does have an impeccable sense of timing,” Rowena said in reproach. Disgruntled, she pulled away from him and yelled, “Your brother and I are trying to shag here, Winchester!”

Sam swore he heard Dean sputtering on the other side at the same time with him. 

Dean stared between the two of them suspiciously upon Sam and Rowena’s exit. He eyed the particular bedhead Sam sported, and his eyes landed over to Rowena once more who stood there imposingly with crossed arms as if daring Dean to say something. 

“And?” Rowena demanded first after the stifling awkward silence that ensued. 

Dean shook his head mildly and composed himself before remembering the reason he came to get them. He stood straighter, his face more serious but relieved. “It’s Jack.” He mustered a small smile. “He’s back with Cas.”

✺✺✺

They looked unharmed, less harried; younger, even. Jack waved at him in greeting with the big guileless smile of the kid that he was. Cas was beside him, and he rushed in to embrace Sam like a long-lost brother. 

Sam was glad to have two of his family back, yet the first thing that came out of his mouth was:

“Your wings. Cas, you got your wings back.” 

Cas pulled from him with an impressed and curious frown. “You can see them?”

“No,” Sam said, frowning to himself. “No, that’s not it. It’s like there’s something new in you, or rather, something returned to you. It’s like you’re back to your old self, like when we first met you.”

“You’re right,” Cas replied with astonishment at Sam’s conclusion. “Jack restored my former grace and wings in the Empty. I see that your innate magic is also strengthening.”

“Aye, it is,” Rowena answered before Sam could disagree. “It’s because Samuel here is being a diligent student of mine.”

Dean coughed loudly at the back, making Jack ask him concernedly if he was sick. Rowena rolled her eyes in their direction. 

“Billie pulled us out of the place in time,” Cas told them. “She said that Chuck still hasn’t sensed Jack's presence so far. However, she allowed us to return because she’s confident that he can do it this time.”

“By that, you mean...”

Cas nodded. “With Jack’s current level of power, he’ll be able to kill God.”

✺✺✺

With Jack and Cas’s arrival, Rowena wasted no time to relay the plan she concocted, explaining it as succinctly as possible including the roles they would play. 

Jack pretty much confirmed the plan Billie told him, though he said that it didn’t include the part of what would come after Chuck’s death. He was onboard immediately with what Sam and Rowena had in mind. 

Cas expressed his concern with Sam dabbling with a tremendous amount of magic on his first try as an official witch but trusted Rowena to be there for Sam every step of the way.

Dean, meanwhile, wasn’t a huge fan of the plan.

Not that Sam expected any less.

“Is it because I’ll become a witch?” Sam confronted Dean when it was just the two of them left. “Look, Dean, I know you don’t approve of me having that kind of power, and with my history, you have the right to be concerned that it’ll backfire on me once it gets out of hand. If that happens, then know that I trust you and Cas to stop me.”

Dean looked stricken. “Jesus, Sam, it’s not even what I mean.” He exhaled sharply. “I was a dick back then for not trying to understand why you became addicted to demon blood. You were the victim there. I regret that I called you a freak just because you wanted to do good using the darkest path. I’m sorry for all of that.” He rubbed his face. “I’m _worried_ that this will be like when you made the decision to carry the Mark of Caine without telling me. I don’t care if you want to be some full-pledge witch—I just want to make sure that I’ll still have a brother afterward.”

Ah. Sam couldn’t help but soften at the concern. He guessed it was one thing they wouldn’t outgrow. 

“I’ll be fine,” Sam assured him. “It’ll be hard, but, hey, we’re never one to do it easy. Besides, we’re not alone this time, you know? Cas is back with his grace; Jack is here which technically means we have Death on our corner; we have our other friends and allies standing with us in this fight. We have Rowena, the Queen of Hell itself, on our side. Chuck thought he already crushed my hope. Seems like he doesn’t know much about his ‘favorite characters’ after all.”

Dean didn’t put up much argument knowing Sam’s mind was made up before his brother was informed of the plan. He sat tersely, gesturing at the spot beside him. They sat there quietly, the silence of the evening could trick anyone out of the sense of danger waiting for its opportunity right outside the vicinity of their hideout. 

“You and Rowena, huh?”

Sam was half-anticipating it. “Yeah.”

Dean grunted. 

“I’m not going to be childish and ask for your blessing, but I want you to know that I like her and I see myself being together with her whether you approve or not.”

Dean snorted. “And I’m not going to be an asshole about it and tell you that you deserve better. You’re my younger brother still, and I care about you, but you’re also a grown-ass man who knows what he wants for himself. If you’re happy then I’m happy for you too.”

“I know you are.” Dean would probably not let it live down, but Sam knew he deserved the words: “You’re the best big brother anyone could have.”

“Damn right I am.” 

Sam could only scoff until they both broke into a laugh. 

✺✺✺

“How is it done?” 

“You take a bath in the pool during the witching hour, I recite an old enchantment, and you emerge once I’m done.”

“And?”

“That’s it, Samuel.”

“Wait, really?”

“Aye.”

Sam blinked then frowned. “How do I know you’re done then? Do I hear it or something?”

“Trust me, dear, you’ll feel it.” 

“Right.” Sam ran a hand through his hair. “Right. Yeah, let’s do this.”

Rowena took note of his expression. “Are you nervous?”

“Frankly, I am. I mean, think about it. The people involved in this have tremendous levels of powers and I’m practically a newborn amidst you guys. I’ll be the weakest link in this.” 

Her face softened in spite of the frustration he expected of her with that display of diffidence. “Compared with the Nephilim, a seraph, and counting Death, you _are_ the only mortal among the bunch who will handle the heavy lifting.” 

“When you put it that way, it makes me sound stupid.”

Rowena chuckled. “Not my intention, believe me, though if it does help you have a different perspective on this matter, then I’ll allow it.” She extended her hand. “Are you ready, Sam?”

Sam took the proffered hand and entwined his fingers with her as his answer. 

It was a cave where Rowena took them. She called it the Cave of Melitele, named after the first white witch to ever call herself as such. The location has persevered through time and the movement of Earth; therefore, it remained exactly how it was when nature created it. 

The stone walls glimmered with the pale hue of the teal waters with the reflection extending over their faces and bathing them in the same glow. It made Rowena’s hair dark, her green eyes clearer and further accentuated by her emerald dress. She seemed even more ethereal, and Sam was mesmerized. 

“As much as I appreciate the bedroom eyes, Samuel, we’re here for a more pressing need,” she tittered. “Later, maybe,” she added with a wink. 

Thank goodness for the lighting. Honestly, he was too old for all the blushing like a middle school student. “You did say you miss the flesh-on-flesh sex.” 

“Remembered that, did you?” 

“Hard not to.” 

“Just as well since I don’t want you to forget.” She leaned closer, chest pressed close against him as she tiptoed to whisper to his ear, “Now strip.”

Sam’s brain stuttered. “Now?”

Her eyes twinkled with delight. “Aye because it’s time for the bath, Samuel.” 

“The bath. Yeah, the bath.”

Sam awkwardly fumbled with the buttons of his shirt and let the flannel slip down on the ground. 

Rowena hummed appreciatively at the sight, and before Sam could feel self-conscious at the attention, she was ushering him down the steps of the pool. 

“Ready?”

“I am.” 

The cool water touched his feet, and Sam descended further until the water was on the level of his waist. Rowena remained on her spot, nodding at Sam encouragingly. 

“Keep your chin above the water, Samuel, and once I start the incantation, dip your head in.”

_Éist le mo ghuth. I is é sin spiorad na cailleach leis an teideal rialóir ar an muintir. Cuireann mise, Rowena MacLeod, Sam Winchester i láthair, chun teideal an chailleach bháin a iompar._

Sam held his breath and submerged himself under once Rowena’s voice rang within the cave. The pressure of the water clogged his ears and pressed against his eyelids. He opened his eyes, the wavy blur of underwater meeting his vision. 

_Lig dó a bheith in ann an t-ithir de ills, an chréachta is doimhne, agus na pianta is géire a leigheas._

Her firm voice was muffled through the waters, and Sam concentrated solely on her words that he barely understood with his minimal grasp on Celtic. He would ask Rowena later what the spell meant. 

_Lig dó an neart a chosaint agus a mhaolú. Lig dó an chumhacht neart a thabhairt, bealach amháin nó eile. Lig dó an chumhacht saol a thabhairt agus a leathnú._

An inexplicable heat came from his chest, seeping throughout his bones and up to the tips of his fingers. It started like a buzz, escalating into a thrum of warmth spreading inside his body. 

It was just like the rush of the demon blood, except the power didn’t crawl in his veins like an insect and latched like a parasite. Sam watched his hands and twitched his fingers to which the water responded, parting with the small gestures. 

_Lig dó a bheith ina mhac draíochta, agus é a choinneáil faoi na cosaintí is láidre. Lig dó an fhoinse a chothú agus a thabhairt ar ais ar ais._

Sam was mesmerized at the way the water moved and swirled around his form. He felt lightweight within the sphere that materialized and cocooned him in a nest of reverberating magic that stretched and pulled him to all directions, as if expanding him to be a wider container that could hold the might of his magic. 

He was no longer breathing water, and Sam didn’t notice. 

_Ceangail mo bheith leis, mar má shocraíonn sé a shaol a thabhairt suas ar mhaithe le daoine eile..._

Sam smelled the color before he took note of it. 

He couldn’t explain how. He _smelled_ the purple wavelength that ran across his field of vision. He didn’t fight the urge to reach out and grasp it in his palm. 

_...cuir a mianach thuas agus tóg mianach ina ionad._

He held on to it that had it solidifying into a band of purple that crisscrossed up his arm and dissolving on his skin. It stained his skin like a tattoo until it completely vanished, only to be seen once and never again. 

_Tugaim mo chroí duit agus an rud atá fágtha de m'anam. Ainmníonn Banríon ifreann tú mar chailleach bán. Rise, Sam Winchester._

Sam broke through the steady surface of the water, gasping. Upon his ascent, Rowena was already wading through the pool towards him. 

And he saw it, the echo of magic shimmering around her like a beacon, the same shade of the band that latched to his wrists and forearm. 

The thoughts flew out of his head when Rowena lunged over to him and kissed him.

It was desperate, the act, and Sam wouldn’t have it any other way. He kept her in his arms tightly, cradling the back of her neck as he smashed his mouth with hers. Rowena’s nails scratched his scalp, and Sam threaded his fingers through her wet locks. 

She dusted his jaw with feather-light kisses, fingers trailing from his neck to shoulders. Rowena mouthed his Adam’s apple and down his chest. Sam couldn’t repress the low groan that left him, pulling her up to his level and covering her mouth with hers, softer and drawing the kiss this time.

“You’re wearing it,” Rowena said breathlessly and gave the necklace a slight tug. “You still have my charm.”

Sam smiled against her cheek. “Your favor, you mean.”

Rowena carefully pulled away from him. “You know?”

“I didn’t. They told me,” he said. “Or, I first heard from the rogue demons then Adam told me what it was. He said you just handed me power over you. Is it true that’s how it works?” 

“Pretty much, aye.” Rowena thumbed his cheek lightly. 

“Then I’ll return it to you.”

“Samuel.” 

“I can’t have it, Rowena. It’s risky. What if someone takes it from me and uses it against you? Or what if they force me to use it against you?” 

“They can try,” she murmured, brushing a strand of his hair behind his ear. “The thing is, unless you will it to work, it’ll be useless, Samuel.”

“But it worked even when I didn’t know it functioned that way. When Eve captured me, remember?”

“It doesn’t have to mean literally, Sam. It helps me sense when your life is in danger and respond to your call if ever.”

Within that hazy memory of his captivity, he must have called for her then, likely unconsciously. “Thank you.”

“Always welcome, darling.” Rowena pecked his forehead. “Promise me that you’ll keep my favor with you at all times. It’s my symbol as well, meaning you’re my champion, technically speaking.”

Sam huffed out a laugh. “Your champion?”

“Aye, and my lover.”

It sounded dramatic, Sam thought, and judging by the smile playing on her lips, it was intentional. 

Sam brought up the back of her hand to his lips, placing a kiss. “Then I’d be honored to, my lady.”

✺✺✺

The plan was set into motion for the next three days. The first move was to pick the spot where they would bring the fight to Chuck, an expansive secluded place several miles away cleared of monsters and possible human survivors. Sam and Rowena, together with Max Banes and a handful of witches, were to set up a contained field that should be able to hold within the tremendous amount of energies from all the parties involved. The containment spell has to be made continuously for thirty-five hours which had Sam thoroughly exhausted after the tenth-hour period. 

On the second day, Sam was to regain a certain level of magic and was asked to be on the sidelines for the meantime. He reluctantly agreed after Rowena reiterated the importance of his role for the big day. 

By the half of that second day, a party of hunters along with Castiel were to clear out the area—the battlefield, Dean had called it. With Sam reserving his strength, Dean didn’t permit him to tag along. 

“I know you want to come,” Dean said sympathetically when Sam gave what he pointed out as his bitch pout. “And I’d like to have you and Cas watching my back as well but you’ll be more needed tomorrow.”

“I know. It’s just that it feels like I’m benched more times than I’d like during this whole fight with God.” 

“You’re a reserve firepower, Sammy,” Dean corrected. “Besides, your girlfriend will kill me if I let you tag along—oh c’mon don’t give me that look. She _is_ your girlfriend.”

Sam rolled his eyes fondly. “Is it going to be like this from now on?”

Dean grinned. “Not when I can help it. Come here, man.” 

“Take care,” Sam said to his brother, meeting him in a hug. “Give them Hell.” 

Once the hunting party left and the isolation spell neared its completion, Sam and Jack were tasked to fetch the ingredients needed for the spell for God’s entrapment. They were accessible, more so with someone who could pop in and out of places without any hitch (except for Sam’s turning stomach at the consecutive jumps). 

“I thought using your powers can alert God?” Sam asked, heaving to keep the bile down. He raised his hand reassuringly when Jack apologized and began to look like a kicked puppy. 

“I’m not really using it whenever I teleport,” Jack said. “It comes with the wings so it looks like I’m moving like any other angel.”

Sam nodded. “Like hiding a tree in the forest. Still, be careful, okay?” He ruffled Jack’s hair. 

Jack looked around to observe the surroundings. He transported the two of them on White Mountains where the oldest tree should be standing. 

“The Methuselah should be around here,” he said. “We get a single pine from it then we’re down to the last ingredient. Rowena said she’ll take care of that.”

“What’s the last ingredient?”

Jack frowned before answering, “Archangel grace.”

“But the last that we have was Gabriel’s. Unless—” 

“Michael. He’s around, isn’t he?” 

“With our half-brother, yes. I don’t know where he went after we talked.”

“Rowena must have if she said she would take care of it,” Jack said. “What is it, Sam?”

“It was a rather heated talk the last time between Adam and I,” Sam shared. “Jack, he told me that Rowena would waste away on her throne.”

And Sam almost forgot about that significant piece of information, lost in the sea of satisfaction that he and Rowena had reached an understanding that they wanted to make it work between them. 

It was never as simple as being together, wasn’t it? He thought wryly. 

“Is there a way to stop it?”

“If she gives up the throne, yes. Theoretically.” 

If Rowena was willing to play the part that she enjoyed being the Queen of Hell despite knowing the effect on her, Sam knew it wouldn’t be easy to ask her to give it up. At the risk of sounding selfish, he has to try anyway. 

“You’ll convince her, Sam,” Jack told him, seemingly reading his mind. “If you ask her, I think Rowena will. She cares about you.” 

“She cares about you, Cas, and Dean as well,” Sam corrected him gently. “Even if she doesn’t say it.”

“She does, but you’re a special case, Sam,” Jack said, smiling. “She cares about you greatly more than any of us.”

Sam felt the prick of warmth on his nape, and he supposed coming from Jack who was technically a three-year-old it was a little embarrassing. 

By that same line of reasoning, the implication was lost on Jack, the young man proceeding to trek ahead of Sam.

It wasn’t long in their trek that the oldest tree became visible. The person waiting for them by the tree, however, wasn’t expected.

“Michael,” Jack said in surprise.

Michael turned to him after staring a second longer at Sam. “Jack.”

Jack smiled at the recognition. “Sam and I are looking for the one pine that grows in this tree,” he told the archangel without question.

Michael opened his palm and revealed the said item. He handed it wordlessly to Jack in which he was graciously thanked for the trouble. Sam might be mistaken but he thought for a split-second Michael showed a flicker of fondness there.

“Thank you,” Sam also said to the archangel when it was clear that he was to join them on the way back. “How did you know where we are?”

“I heard Rowena’s prayer,” Michael said. “She told me of the plan and what you would need. I predicted I might find you here.”

“Then you know of the archangel grace we need.”

“I do,” Michael admitted without hesitation. “I will willingly part with some of my grace.”

“We owe you,” Sam said.

“Make no mistake that I’ll rebel directly against my Father,” Michael replied firmly. “But Adam made me promise to help in any other way we could, if only for Rowena and the genuine kindness she showed to Adam.”

“It’s as good as any help,” Sam said with a smile. “Thanks, both of you.”

They were back at the camp in one last angel travel that Sam wasn’t looking forward to repeating anytime soon. He landed on his feet, a little dazed and unsteady until there was a firm hold on his shoulder by Jack.

Rowena was immediately there to meet them, impressed with their promptness. Sam handed her the ingredients they gathered, their hands brushing and each letting the touch linger. The sense of relief was instant.

“I see you’ve had help,” she commented, gaze darting to Adam. “It’s good to see you again, dear boy.”

There was a considerable change in Adam’s features, his eyes softening. “You too. How are you feeling?”

“Light as rain.”

Adam raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “That wasn’t how you looked last time.”

“Och. Spare me the lecture, lad,” she retorted without heat. She sighed. “I’ll be alright before you know it.”

Adam could only cross his arms.

“This vessel is holding up better than expected,” she said. “It’s not perfect, but it should be enough for tomorrow. Now, speaking of tomorrow’s main event, does your archangel agree with my request?”

“Yes, but he says that before he gives you his grace, there’s one last thing he has to do,” Adam said, straightening. “We’ll return tonight with the grace… and with someone, Michael said. Someone who will help with the cleanup of God’s mess and with the fight with whatever God decides to throw at you at the last minute.”

“Who?”

“Someone with a debt with the Winchesters,” was all Adam told them. He nodded at Sam. “I think you’ll recognize him when he arrives.”

Adam slipped out of notice when Dean and Cas’s party returned. It clearly exhausted the bunch, and as long as the gates of Purgatory remained open, the monsters would keep coming, but the victory for the day was apparent and that was all that mattered for the present. 

There was also the closeness there that Dean and Cas seemed to acquire in the span of a few hours, the small touches on the elbow and arms that they thought no one saw. Not that anyone else bothered to point it out. Sam could only smile privately with Rowena who noticed the same thing with a glint of interest in her emerald eyes.

Michael returned by dawn without any explanation of where he went, though in his hand was the bright glow of his grace contained in a vial. He took Rowena aside for it while Sam was distracted with a different matter altogether, namely the arrival of a stranger.

No. No, it wasn’t a stranger at all, he and Dean realized as they put down their guard.

“A cambion,” was what Jack said.

“It’s the former Anti-Christ,” Cas confirmed. “Jesse Turner.”

Jesse, now a teenager, waved a hand and grinned. “Hey, guys.”

Sam and Dean remembered a nine-year-old boy reluctant to leave behind the people he grew to know as his parents. Jesse was that boy forced to go into hiding to avoid Lucifer and the demons. He was that poor parentless boy who vanished without a trace and was never seen again until now.

There was not a trace of that gloomy boy in him now. He was brimming with the energy of youth, enthusiastically embracing Sam and Dean like long-lost friends. His zeal at sharing his travels to the parts of the world was contagious, and he regaled them with tales around the campfire set up originally as a vigil for what was about to go down tomorrow.

Though with this number of people who mostly got to know each other in the last few weeks, huddled together and toeing the line between the general pleasant mood over the victory of the day and the anxiousness for tomorrow’s fight. 

In his search for Rowena, Sam was drawn to the secluded spot by the back of the safe house where Adam was sitting on the lone bench away from most. Sam wasn’t sure whether his presence was welcomed and decided to leave his half-brother alone.

“Sam,” he heard him call before he could walk away.

Sam walked over to him, Adam’s back turned to him. They both didn’t speak for a while, the silence blanketing both of them.

“Tomorrow,” Adam began. “It’ll be tomorrow.”

“Yeah. It’s ironic that tomorrow will be the judge if there’s going to be another day afterward.” Sam chuckled humorlessly. “Where will you go after?” he asked.

“Good question. If you win, then I suppose Michael and I will continue this lifestyle of living together,” Adam answered. “If God wins, then Michael is free to return to his Dad’s side and will have no use of me. I will die alongside you and this world.”

“Forgive me if I’m wrong, but I don’t think Michael will let that happen.”

“I’ll be frank; I don’t think so either, but if it’s what his father commands, he can’t argue now, can he?” Adam reasoned. “It’s been a while since I’m on this side of the earth, but I’d rather not see it gone, Sam, so does Michael albeit not outright saying it.”

“Then we’ll win, Adam, or die trying.”

“I know you will,” he said. “Can you promise me something, Sam?”

“What is it?”

“Promise me that you’ll make Rowena see this through.”

There was no need for Adam to ask—Sam would make damn well sure of it, but he understood where Adam was coming from. He cared for Rowena, maybe more than Adam was aware of, and Sam wouldn’t begrudge his half-brother those feelings, certainly not when he greatly deserved to feel human once again.

“I will. You know I will,” Sam promised.

“Good.” Adam stood. “She told me and Michael not to do anything stupid.” He smiled ruefully. “I think she knows we won’t take that advice.”

“What are you going to do, Adam?”

“Something stupid, but I need you to trust us on this, Sam.”

How could Sam say no to that? He was concerned; he had no clue what it was that already had Adam’s mind made up, yet Sam knew that he had no right to stop him either.

“I trust you, but I want you to come back too, at least for Rowena. Make sure you’ll come back, Adam.”

“I’ll try to, Sam,” Adam found himself promising, taken aback at the embrace Sam initiated until he tentatively returned the gesture. “I’ll be back.”

Sam supposed it was the closest to a sign of forgiveness that he would get from his half-brother. 

“We might have missed a chance to make a bet over it,” Rowena whispered to him regretfully, watching Dean and Cas from across the campfire.

Sam could only share a laugh with her. 

Not far from Dean and Cas were Jack and Jesse, the latter of which had taken an interest with the former. Jesse never said where he came from or where specifically he was during the decade he was unseen, though he made implications that he had been to other worlds.

“Michael is mistaken,” Sam suddenly said to her. “Jesse isn’t indebted to us.”

“Really now?”

“Hmmhm. We pulled him from his family after we explained what he was. Supposed to hand him to Bobby for the duration of the first Apocalypse but he decided to run away on his own somewhere, which was better since there was no one else who knew where he was. He was never found by the demons.”

“Maybe that was it,” Rowena said with a shrug. “The boy wouldn’t know what he was if not for your intervention. He would have found one day that his adoptive parents were brutally killed as a means to an end. You saved the boy from turning into a tool, helped him save his family, and set him in the path of where he was now. He seems… happy.”

Jesse laughed at something Jack said, and what a pair they make, a half-angel and a half-demon.

Sam’s attention was taken by the sudden movement from Rowena. She sidled close to him, burrowing to his side like a cat much to Sam’s fondness (and amusement).

“Not that I’m complaining,” he started, encircling his arm around her shoulders. “But is the Queen alright with displaying public affections?”

“I’d say they can go to Hell but then I’ll be seeing them there,” she murmured. She reached and tilted his chin. “I do not give a shite, Samuel.”

Sam chuckled as he dipped in to kiss her forehead, tucking some of her stray hair behind her ear. Rowena stared up at him with unadulterated adoration. How conscious she was of it, Sam couldn’t be certain, though he couldn’t help the enamored smile he gave her in return.

On any normal day, she would probably complain at their sappiness—hell, even Sam would likely find it ridiculous too—but right then, nothing else mattered but them.

Call him sentimental but Sam was looking forward to more of this in the future.

“Can I ask you something?”

Rowena hummed.

“Are you… Do you like it, being a queen?”

She pulled away from him with a raised eyebrow. “Where is this coming from?”

“Just curious,” Sam lied ineffectively. Rowena snorted. “Well, that’s partly true, but mainly it’s because you said before that you like it and the perks that come with the throne. What I don’t understand is how you can like something that slowly destroys you.”

He expected anger or at least annoyance for picking apart what was her firm decision. Except what Sam found was that same patient expression she would reserve for him during their impromptu lessons on magic. For a man past his mid-thirties, Rowena did know how to make him feel like a naïve young boy.

“Because, Samuel, is there any other preferable choice? If I did not take over Hell, who would? Some sleazy demon would rule and be replaced by the same kind, and it would become a cycle that remained unbroken for an indefinite time. Oh, they would give a damn about topside because this was where they rake the supply from, but they would align themselves with God to guarantee their own hides. Aside from Purgatory, you would have Hell to take care of as well.”

Fine. Point taken. “And you?”

“What about me?”

“You’ll just let the throne eat you away, take from you until there’s nothing left. Are you even happy, Rowena?”

She surprised him with a chuckle. “Is that what I should worry about, Sam? Because if it’s all I have to care about, then I wouldn’t last down there.” She covered his chest. “I would fight my way back up here on earth, back to that life I’ve painstakingly lived on that mostly caused me pain and suffering, and I would choose that any time of the day because my happiness no longer lie to a seat of power or another long immortal life.”

Sam could only stare at her, mesmerized.

“I suppose I have you to blame for turning me into this irrational woman who will trade a kingdom for this.” Rowena sighed wistfully, lacing their fingers together. “At the risk of sounding mawkish, I am planning on giving up the throne once I find a permanent solution as to who will take over after me.”

“You’re looking for a replacement?” Sam tried to keep the hopeful note from his voice.

“Aye. A conversation I had with Michael before. Should everything go according to plan, he’ll lead the Heavenly Host once more, and he’ll delegate someone to rule Hell if I decide to forsake it,” she told him, eyes darting to Jack and Jesse’s direction.

“Oh,” he simply said once Sam connected the dots. “That’s logical. I think.”

“It is,” she agreed. “You have to give your brother and his archangel some credit. Instead of moping around Hell—which he still did but for a shorter time—about how Chuck abandoned them in Hell, Michael started planning on how to revolutionize the overall system without relying on God.”

“A cambion on the throne of Hell who should be able to withstand the effect of it as a half-demon and a Nephilim to act as a counter-balance to the loss of the Creator,” Sam concluded. “You think this will work?”

“I do,” Rowena answered firmly. “It’s all untested, I know, but I have a good feeling about this, Samuel.”

Sam believed that too, felt that surge of hope once more. It always was the case with Rowena, Sam realized. Even back then when they were adversaries, she was that glimmer of hope to curing Dean of the mark, of putting Lucifer back in the cage, of returning Dean’s memories, of keeping the portal open between the Apocalypse World and this world, of finding Dean when Alternate Michael took him, of fixing Jack when he lost his grace, of finding Jack when he ran away soulless, of closing Hell’s rupture, and of finally beating God.

And she said they were quits. Sam begged to differ.

“Am I right to assume that you’re making a tally of your debts?”

“Are you a mind reader now?”

“I don’t have to be if you’re so easy to read with that deep-set frown and narrowed eyes.” She flicked his forehead and clicked her tongue disapprovingly. “Clear yourself of those thoughts, Samuel, at least for tonight.”

“Hard not to overthink everything,” he confessed. Absently, he played with her hair with one hand, the other thumbing her cheek. It was incongruously domestic, and Dean would probably tease him mercilessly later, but Sam couldn’t keep his hands away from her. “I wish I can turn them off just for a few hours with you.”

I’m afraid, Sam wanted to say. I’m afraid this will be the last time I’ll get this with you. He need not say for Rowena has that look of understanding and the wordless _I’m here and it’s alright to be afraid._

“I know an effective way to clear your mind,” she said lightly, temptingly while she extricated herself from his hold with a promise of more. “That is if you’re up for it?”

Sam smiled at the offer, full of that adulation and dare he say love.

Love. That was it, he thought assuredly.

“Lead the way then.”

They slipped together back to the mansion upstairs hand in hand, and if they were seen under the cover of the night then one could only presume to know.

✺✺✺

It was palpable, the tension in the air.

Sam could almost taste the charge in the atmosphere, a buzzing that danced across his skin and crawled underneath his veins. Glancing to his side, he knew Rowena could feel it too.

“He’s near,” she said. 

Sam nodded, welcoming the hand that reached for him and covered it with his own palm. “We can do this, Rowena.”

It was disarming how Chuck appeared unassuming. 

Looking at him, you wouldn’t even mistake him as a pagan god at least. He has that look of mediocrity as the human Chuck Shurley, from his stature and overall aura that screamed average. 

Nothing about him stood out until he clicked his fingers and something impossible would happen.

“Chuck.”

“Hey, Sam,” he greeted with a big complacent smile and a slight wave. He turned to Rowena, eyes widening in surprise. “Rowena? You’re alive?”

Rowena smiled saccharinely. “In spirit, Charles. Got the promotion as Queen of Hell, by the way, which I suppose you have a hand on.” 

Chuck has that unsettling proud grin on his face. “I’ll be frank; I no longer take you into consideration after you died, but you just keep on surprising and surprising me. Resilient and resourceful Rowena. I guess I made no mistake of picking you as one of my favorites, outside the main cast, of course.” 

“A favorite of God himself. How flattering,” Rowena remarked dryly. 

“Eh. Only as far as you’re not disrupting the story.” Chuck shrugged. “Which is what you’re doing right now,” he said, voice turning serious. “You see, I’ve seen this outcome, of me being confronted but by Sam and Dean. So tell me, Sam, where’s Dean?”

Sam scoffed. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” he taunted. “When you showed me before that crappy ending of yours, I believed that the first time, but that future doesn’t apply anymore, not when we have a say in it, Chuck.”

“Why, Sam? You think that an incorrect status of one minor character will check the outcome of this story? You know that’s not how it—” Chuck frowned at Sam, tilting his head in realization. “Oh. So that’s how it is. A witch, huh? I’ll admit I did not consider it for you.”

  
  


“Because you’d rather have me become a demon or let Lucifer wear me just to kill Dean.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t push you in that direction as a witch, Sam,” Chuck said. “Writer, remember? I can make do with what I have.”

“Not with this one. This ends today, Chuck.”

Chuck huffed out a laugh. “With you two?” He glanced between Sam and Rowena. “Oh, you’re serious.”

“Very, I’m afraid,” Rowena tutted. 

How she could remain admirably calm under pressure, Sam didn’t know, though he supposed it had something to do with their joint hands that they were yet to severe. Sam squeezed her hand tighter, wanting them to both share strength. 

“Oh, c’mon,” they heard Chuck exclaim. “Again?”

Sam and Rowena furtively exchanged a glance. 

“Like I didn’t just witness the two of you getting together over and over. To be honest, it’s getting tiring to watch the two of you end up with each other. I’ll let it pass if it’s only a couple of worlds here and there, but _all_ of them even this?”

“What?” Sam demanded. “What do you mean by that?”

“Sam Winchester and Rowena MacLeod, two unlikely people who keep finding each other across space and time,” Chuck told them as if mockingly narrating. “This is ridiculous. I thought I already covered all the possibilities! I didn’t make Rowena a brunette this time around for one thing.” 

“You’ve been meddling even with this?” Sam asked disbelievingly. “You just can’t keep your hands to yourself, can you, Chuck?”

“I’m God, Sam, what do you expect me to do? Let the same thing play out? Please. I’m a writer! I’m supposed to write the twists and turns. If I say I want you to end up with a Jessica or with an Eileen, it should happen. And yet, for some unknown reason, it’s always a Rowena for Sam Winchester!” Chuck ranted, waving his hands vaguely as if in surrender. “In one world, I even made Rowena the exemplary _mortal_ mother of the century, but since fate is so hell-bent in bringing the two of you together, whoops there goes the promising up and coming law student Sam Winchester transported to the 1600s and staying there for good. 

“Believe me, I tried excluding Rowena in the story on some cases and guess what happened: Sam Winchester either grew old alone in some cottage and dying of old age or he died young in the line of duty. Both endings sucked by the way. So you see? Forgive me if I’m not rooting for the two of you after seeing it all.”

“Are you—” Rowena began, swallowing, and Sam could tell she was trying her best not to break down at the revelation. “You’re saying you’re the one who made my life that way, made it difficult and harsh. Is that what you mean, Charles?”

Chuck smiled blithely. “Had to set up the right circumstances, you understand. Although if you’re going to blame me for how you lived your life, don’t bother. I made you a bitter and spiteful woman, that was true. I made you flawed, but I wasn’t the one who abused and abandoned your kid. That was all you, Rowena. 

“That’s the beauty of free will. You humans work with what I give you, and it always depends on the choices you make that can determine how you’ll turn up to be.”

“Don’t listen to him, Rowena,” Sam told her. 

Chuck clapped his hand, startling the two of them. “How about this instead? Since I’m feeling benevolent on this special occasion, I’m going to offer you two a choice: back down now, forget that this happened at all, then I’m going to grant you each a wish.”

“He’s playing with our mind,” Sam insisted, squeezing her hand. “You know what he said wasn’t true. You’re not that person anymore, Rowena. You and I both know that.” 

“But I’ve _been_ that person, Sam, and I would still be that woman if not for _you_.”

“For you, Sam, I’ll take back what I showed you before regarding that possible future. I promise to leave this world, clean my hands off of this place, return things to their natural order, close the doors that need to be closed,” Chuck negotiated, not minding one bit that Sam and Rowena’s attention was away from him. “I’d say win-win.” 

“I’m not disregarding what you did, and I don’t have the right to judge you for what you were,” Sam said sincerely, reaching out for her cheek and cradling her face tenderly. “But I want you to know that I love you despite the blood that you had on your hands and the mistakes you committed in the past. We’re not perfect, Rowena, but I know that we can accept each other that way.” 

“For you, Rowena,” Chuck continued. “A permanent solution in order for you to keep the throne of Hell forever if you want to, and the cherry on top, of course, is your dear ‘ol son fresh from The Empty.”

Rowena turned to him. “You’ll bring him back? You’ll bring Fergus back?”

Chuck shrugged. “I was able to bring back the first demon. Crowley shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Rowena,” Sam said brokenly. “Rowena, don’t.”

She tiptoed and laid a kiss on his lips, unmindful of the audience. Sam stood still like a statue, and she whispered, “Do it, Sam.”

A million questions raced in Sam’s mind, though the dawn of understanding between him and Rowena was enough to clear his mind. 

Sam began to cite the spell and the magic flew freely.

Sam couldn’t believe he was saying this, but Chuck looked pitiful. 

Chuck Shurley was never a man to start with, though to Sam he seemed like one now especially when he saw him crawling on the ground, his husk slowly dissolving in the air. 

They won. They finally put God down. 

Chuck dragged his body, close to the edge before he barked out a sharp harsh laugh. Sam maintained his distance, putting himself before Jack and Rowena. Dean stood next to him, grim and unable to look away at the pathetic sight of God indignantly squirming like a spineless worm. 

The sound of wings signaled the arrival of Cas… and so was Michael and Adam both very much alive.

“It’s done,” Michael announced. “Purgatory’s gate is now closed and the creatures back in.”

“Michael,” Chuck called. “Son.”

“Father.” Michael’s expression was stony and without a hint of remorse at Chuck’s state. “You’ve seen better days.”

“I did,” Chuck agreed weakly. “But you can help me. Help rebuild this world, start from scratch. We can make it work together, son.”

“Don’t!” Michael gritted forcefully, startling everyone. “Don’t call me that when it’s only convenient for you.” He took a deep breath and calmed himself quickly. “I’m not here for you, but there is someone who’s going to come and fetch you.” His eyes darted past Chuck and nodded.

The familiar form of Death materialized behind Chuck. The scythe she was carrying gleamed under the setting sun that hit her back, and while Billie wasn’t much for spectacle of an entrance, this one was called for.

“Ingrates!” Chuck suddenly screamed, whirling around like a cornered animal and hurriedly moving away from Billie. “First my sons, and now you humans. You won’t be here if not for me! I made you! I made everything! And this is how you’ll repay me?! Me who breathed life to your empty clay shells!”

“Not everything,” Billie corrected. “There’s me and Amara.”

“Amara? Yes. Amara. Where’s my sister? I need her!”

“Your sister wants her hands clean of the mess you made. She won’t come to rescue you, Chuck, and she most certainly won’t stop me from reaping you.”

Billie laid the blade against Chuck’s neck and without an ounce of hesitation pulled across his neck in a clean slice, Chuck’s protest forever stuck in his throat. There was no blood, only dust of what was once the Creator and God.

Sam braced himself for the possibility of the world collapsing, of the sun dying like it was before. A few minutes of solemn silence shared by everyone didn’t yield any sign that the world would be ending soon.

“Did it work?” he dared to ask Billie, to Rowena, to Jack, to Michael—to no one in particular. “God’s dead. Will the world—”

“No. It seems that you had the right formula,” Billie said approvingly, glancing between Sam and Rowena. “Good job. You did your part well. Even you, Jack.”

Jack frowned at himself, observing his hands. “I thought I’d feel something different, at least a surge or whatever, but I still feel the same with my powers.”

“Because it’s not about you absorbing Chuck’s powers in the first place. It’s you being alive to keep this world hanging in the balance.”

“Oh. Does that mean I’ll have to stay in Heaven?”

“You can,” it was Michael who answered. “But if you’re to go then it has to be your choice. I won’t burden you with the responsibility of my father. You’re young, Jack, and you’re more human than you thought. I’ll hold the fort for now, and when you decide that you want to take the mantle, then I’ll be your mentor.”

Jack seemingly glowed at the statement. “Thank you… uncle.”

Nobody was sure whether the twitch of the smile was from Adam or Michael.

“Castiel,” Billie called. “The Shadow told me you have some unfinished business with it.”

“I—” Castiel faltered. “Yes,” he answered firmly. “Yes, we have.”

“The Shadow?” Dean asked. “Cas, what does that mean?”

“Nothing you should be concerned about, Dean.”

“Like Hell it isn’t? I thought we’re beyond keeping secrets, Cas.”

“Dean,” Sam interrupted, going beside his brother to placate him. “Look, I don’t know this too, and we should hear Cas. You’ll tell us, right, Cas? At least when you’re ready.”

“Yes. Once I return I’ll tell you,” Castiel promised, almost imploringly at Dean. “I’ll tell you everything once I return, Dean.”

Castiel turned without looking back and flew, leaving Dean torn and frustrated.

“I’ll go after him,” Jack told them. “He’ll be back. I know he will be. If not, then I’ll just bring him here myself.”

“Believe him,” Billie said once Jack was gone after Castiel. “And believe me when I said that the Shadow will be lenient to Castiel despite their initial agreement.”

Dean bit back the retort that he didn’t even have any idea what this agreement was, nor what would happen if Cas and Jack never returned.

“I trust them,” Sam said gently, holding Dean by the shoulder. “I know you do too. They’ll return before we know it, just you wait.”

That earned a reluctant nod at least by Dean. Sam let his brother mull over it, not protesting when Dean went with Michael with the excuse of checking on their friends back in the headquarters.

“And what of you two?” Billie asked when it was only the three of them. She addressed Rowena, “Should you decide to keep the throne, then I’ll provide you the means to stop its effect on you. Think of it as payment.”

“Aye. I’d like you to remove the curse on that blasted chair,” Rowena said silkily. “But I already made the decision to give it away. What I want is a way to make this vessel permanent.”

Billie raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure you need to ask that of me?”

It took Sam a moment to understand the pointed look Death gave him. “I thought you already closed that loophole.”

“And I’ll open it for the second and last time,” Billie said. “It’ll be my payment for you, Sam Winchester. Use it well.”

✺✺✺

They were back in the Cave of Melitle by evening.

Sam led Rowena down with him, further in the water the same way they’ve been there two days ago except this time their roles were reversed.

“Do you trust me?” It seemed pertinent to ask, Sam thought.

She snorted. “That’s a rather stupid question, Samuel.” Sam was determined nonetheless. Rowena relented, grasping his chin. “Fine. Since it matters to you, then yes, with my whole being.”

Sam bent down to lay a kiss on her forehead before gently lowering her down the water while supporting her back. He didn’t have the herbs he originally used the first time, though Sam was fairly certain this would work without the ingredients.

_Mortuum oritur. Rutum revertitur. Ex spiritum incarnatum est. Oriatur et educatur. Oriatur et educator._

A couple of seconds passed without any noticeable change until there came a pulse from the water and in the air that reverberated within the cave. The wave of magic formed a ripple on the surface, extending up and below to both Sam and Rowena and seeping in their forms.

Sam gingerly guided her out of the water once the glimmer of magic passed. Rowena rose, heaving a deep gulp of breath.

It could have been the peculiar reflection of the clear water, but Sam noticed the lively shine casted over Rowena’s hair and eyes, making her features glow under the light.

“Did it work?”

“Aye.” Rowena’s lips twitched, moving to wrap her arms around Sam’s neck. “My, my, advancing quite quickly, aren’t we?” she teased.

“I learned from the best,” Sam muttered, relieved. “I love you.”

“I know,” Rowena replied with no small amount of fondness in her low voice. “And I you.”

There were no more words needed, and the kiss spoke of what was needed to be said. Sam let himself be lost to the heady sensation of warmth from the bottom of his stomach, the sweet tug from the deepest part of his chest, and the rush of blood he could hear in his ears.

And it was when he thought he saw them.

The images that assaulted his mind were unexpected and puzzling though welcomed when he managed to piece them together.

There was one where he sat in front of a desk, surreptitiously glancing across to catch the eye of that secretary with the wild red hair and adorably freckled face. She looked up just in time to notice him and they shared a smile. Later, he would ask her for coffee and she would gladly accept.

The second scene was him standing in front of a closing elevator where a woman managed to slip through the last minute. The first thing he noticed was the red hair in a messy bun and the tired eyes that beamed gratefully when he held the elevator open for her upon her exit. He has a feeling it wouldn’t be the last time he would see her.

The next one was where he was in front of an easel, painting the striking red hair of the woman from his dreams. He thought it weird that he never saw her in person before yet he has her face memorized. He didn’t know but it was also the fateful day he would see her outside his dreams.

He was sitting in a bar next, stood up by some woman and decided that he would linger with whiskey until closing time. When he glanced to his left, he spotted a woman sitting alone in the other end, her red hair dark under the dim lighting. They caught each other’s gaze, and they both moved closer to each other. They would spend the night later and many more for the rest of their years.

In the following scene, he found himself laid down, his vision blurry and could make out the faint assurances that he would be alright. There were spots of red and white that he could recognize as red hair and the white doctor’s coat. He was probably high on anesthetic that he let his mouth run and asked the female doctor whether she would be amenable to a coffee date. He thought he heard a pleasant laugh there and an agreement that they would go out for coffee if he was to recover quickly.

The next one displayed a rather heated argument between him and this feisty redhead who was full of indignation and spirit in that stature of hers. He had never been this attracted to someone before, and if he blurted it out of the blue, well, it was enough to shut her down and turn her into that adorable blushing mess.

He might have seen her around the campus before, though he couldn’t be sure. He lurked around the library in hopes of seeing that girl with bright red hair and round glasses and just when he thought he would miss her for the day, he actually bumped to her when he was reaching for that single copy of _The_ _Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King_ which she was also aiming for. He let her have it, though they did end up talking for most of the day about Tolkien. It was a win-win.

The other one painted a scene of him watching the movie of this particular Scottish actress who happened to be a crush of his since she first appeared on the screen. He was there on her tour and had her sign a picture of her. What made the autograph special was the number that came with it and the short message to call her that night.

He woke up next to an unknown woman that he believed he should have known based on the evidence of a rather strenuous activity the previous evening. She merely laughed when he apologetically asked for her name and found him adorable when he didn’t leave first thing in the morning. They shared breakfast and found a lot in common. He wasn’t a believer of fate or destiny, but this one… this one might be an exemption.

And with Rowena in his arms after everything that they both been through, Sam might be a believer of it too.

It was fate who brought them together, and they wouldn’t have it any other way.

They could get used to this. 

* * *

**FIN**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> White Witch Spell Translations: 
> 
> _Hear my voice. I who is the spirit of the witch with the title of the ruler of the damned. I, Rowena MacLeod, present Sam Winchester, to bear the title of the white witch._
> 
> _Let him possess the ability to heal the gravest of ills, the deepest of wounds, and the most acute of pains._
> 
> _Let him have the strength to protect and alleviate. Let him have the power to give strength, one way or another. Let him have the power to give and extend life._
> 
> _Let him be the son of magic, and keep him under the strongest of protections. Let him nurture and give back to the source in return._
> 
> _Bind my being to his, for if he decides to give up his life for the sake of others..._
> 
> _...put his above mine and take mine instead._
> 
> _I give you my heart and what is left of my soul. The Queen of Hell anoints you as a white witch. Rise, Sam Winchester._
> 
> Thank you for reading! ^_^


End file.
